A Tale of the Fourth Age
by morgiel
Summary: Redhaired Elves? Elves with DWARVISH BLOOD in them? Is that even allowed? Daewen learns that she is not an 18 year old human but actually a 4,000 year old elf named Morgiel!
1. Chapter 1

_AN: As a courtesy, let it be known that I do not own anything by JRR Tolkien; I do not have the money to do so. (Of course, if I did, that would be a whole other story...) Andas this is a completely original story, I have done my absolute best to stay as true to Tolkien's Middle-earth and his writings. I will post the next chapter on Monday._

Chapter One

Long ago, towards the end of the First Age of the Sun and Moon; when the realms of the Eldar were still standing strong, Morgoth was vanquished, and the realms of Men had begun to grow; there came about a very strange union between the elves and the dwarves.

In the ancient city of Nogrod, high in the Ered Luin; or the Blue Mountains; there lived a dwarf called Orin. He was akin to the Lord of the Dwarves of the Blue Mountains, but only in name. In truth he was one of the greatest in delving and creating the most beautiful jewels; and in skill he was only surpassed by the Noldor. But he learned much from these masters of jewellery, and befriended many of them; for this reason he was shunned for the most part by his people, and they did not acknowledge his lordship.

Now the elves that lived closest to the Ered Luin were the wood elves of Ossiriand. They did not have much dealing with anyone, but some of the more remote elves who lived nearer the River Thalos would have a little trade and converse with the dwarves traveling to the regions of Doriath, where there was much trade between elves and dwarves.

A certain small village of elves which was called Sérenómë traded regularly with the dwarves of Nogrod, and they had much dealing with Orin. For this reason also was he shunned, for unlike all dwarves he was very much intrigued by the elves and their way of life. He wished to be among them all the time, and the times he would travel to Sérenómë for business he would find any excuse to stay a while longer.

Now the Master of Sérenómë was akin, through marriage, to Denethor, King of Ossiriand. His name was Belegon, and he was not very like-minded of the wood elves. He was of Noldorin descent, and had married a wood elf. He loved to craft things of metal and stone, and had many fine jewels and magnificent pieces of armour and swords fit for kings. These were his treasure, though he gave freely and did not hoard it all for himself. But he would pour his whole being into making these things, so they were very dear to his heart. Another thing that was most dear to his heart was his only child and daughter, Arien Tindómiel. She was his greatest treasure of all, for he had lost his wife in an orc-raid. Now he spent all of his time with his daughter and his craftwork.

One day, close to the first day of spring, Orin went with his men to trade with the elves of Serenome. He was excited, for he knew that the elves would be preparing for the spring feast, or the Tuilérë. They would be decorating the whole village, and it would be absolutely beautiful.

As Orin entered the village, he was amazed at the beautiful sight. There were flowers everywhere. The elves were setting up the different pavilions in which the Tuilérë would be celebrated, and they were very beautiful. The pavilions were all about the same size, but decorated differently. Each one had a different kind of flower arrangement on its frame; each one more beautiful than the last. There were flowers of all colors; blue, pink, gold, purple, white, and orange. But the Master's Pavilion was decorated with small red and silver flowers. When Orin reached the Master's Pavilion, he stopped. It was like a palace to him. He craned his neck to see the top, but could barely catch a glimpse of it. As he looked in awe his gaze met with that of an elf-maiden who was decorating the pavilion. He turned quickly to go, so as not to disturb her, but she called out to him.

"Master Dwarf, may I speak with you a moment?"

Orin was caught off guard by the sound of her clear voice, and suddenly felt as if time itself had stopped. "M-mm-my lady, are you speaking to me?" he finally asked in disbelief.

"Yes, I am. Are you one of the traders here on business to my father?" She came over to him, and as she did he bowed in the stately dwarf-fashion. "Yes, my lady. I am Orin son of Norin, at your service—" he then realized what she had said. "Your father—Lord Belegon? I did not know he had a daughter; and most fair." The words came out of his mouth before he had time to think. "Forgive me; I had no right, lady—I mean—you _are_ beautiful, but I—"

She looked at him and smiled. "It is quite all right, Master Orin. I admire someone who will speak his mind. You were in no way disrespectful. And never before have I met such an eloquent dwarf. My name is Arien."

Now Orin looked on her fully. She was tall and slender, with long, braided golden hair that had small red flowers in it. She was clothed in green and girt with a belt of mithril. She was also barefoot. Her eyes were as green as the sunlit grass, and Orin felt as if they could pierce into the innermost thoughts of his mind. He thought she was the most beautiful maiden he had ever seen.

She spoke again. "Come, I will take you to my father. He will be most pleased to find that you have arrived."

The two of them walked up the pathway to the Master's Hall. It was halfway up the first hill that gave way to the lofty Ered Luin. Orin could begin to make out the large hall, for it was built around a very tall tree. The Hall had many large windows that faced to the West, and two, very tall double doors for the entrance. They were made from some sort of dark wood that Orin did not know, with very ornate and intricate carvings. The tree stood high in the middle, and smaller buildings were perched on many of its thick branches. Orin thought that he had never seen something so amazing as that Hall. And he had been invited in! This was a wondrous thing to him, for he had always met with Belegon in the center of the village to trade, and not once had he been asked to go up the Master's Hall.

Now they were at the doors. There were two tall elves dressed in muted greens and browns armed with long bows and quivers full of long feathered arrows strapped to their backs. They were faithfully guarding those doors, and started when Arien and her guest approached.

"My lady, you are letting _him_ enter your father's Hall? Pardon me for speaking, but it is a little peculiar." The guard stayed where he was.

Arien looked at Orin. He was about four feet and some few inches above the ground. He was clad in the normal dwarf-mail and had a magnificent axe that he always carried no matter what he was doing or where he was going. He had a splendidly braided red beard, and deep, black eyes that were strange to see in a dwarf. She suddenly felt drawn to him, though she did not know why. She stepped up to the guard. "You needn't worry about Master Orin. He is on business to my father." She stood in front of the guard, looking defiant. He turned to open the doors.

The doors swung open on silent hinges, and the hall slowly came into view. It was wide and bright, with sunlight streaming through the Westward facing windows. At the very end of the Hall past the massive trunk of the tree was a dais upon which sat two chairs. One was very ornate and had many emeralds and adamant jewels adorning the arms and legs. The other chair was smaller, and was wrought entirely of mithril. This had been a gift of the dwarves to Belegon's wife, Elenna. Now it was where Arien sat when she was with her father.

Orin now noticed that Master Belegon was sitting in the larger of the two chairs and he seemed to be deep in thought. He came out of his thoughts as he heard Arien and her guest approaching the dais. He stood up to greet them.

"Arien, my beloved daughter! What brings thee away from thy preparations for the Tuilere? And is this not Master Orin of Nogrod? I had almost forgotten of our business arrangements today. But there are so many things I must attend to…" he trailed off, lost in thought again. But then he looked at them. "Well, let us go down to the Pavilion Square, and we shall take care of our monthly trading." He stepped down from the dais and joined Arien and Orin as they turned to leave the Hall.

As they approached the Pavilion Square Orin excused himself and went on ahead to unload the carts for the trade. Arien and her father continued down the path towards the Square. Belegon turned to his daughter. "Arien, my daughter, thou seemest to have much in thy mind. Tell me, is something troubling thee?"

"No, my father. I am just wondering: Orin is not like the other dwarves. I have heard tell that he is shunned by his people because he has befriended us. Why is that? He has a great mind and an appreciation for that which is outside of his way of life a traditions. He does not seem so common, like them;" she pointed to the other dwarves. "He seems of noble blood, I think." She had a faraway look in her eyes, and it aroused her father's concern. "My child, I think thou needest not bother thyself with such things. They do not concern thee, so think no more of them."

Arien did not know why her father suddenly became so interested in what she thought of certain things. She was no child; indeed, she was 1,935 years of age. She knew that in the eyes of her father she was still young, but he never treated her so. She did not know how to reply, so she kept silent. She continued to watch Orin as she and her father approached the dwarves.

Orin looked up. Belegon was standing over him, waiting for him to finish unloading. He set the last thing down and turned to the Master of Serenome. "Ah! My lord, we have much to talk about. Come, see what we have brought for you today."

Belegon and Orin went down the path and began to discuss business. Arien walked over to the Master's Pavilion and sat down among the flowers. She looked very much the wood-maiden in her green dress amid the red and silver flowers. She picked one up and looked at it. It was small and simple. It had six petals; each of them deep red. The stem and leaves were a deep green. But the strange thing about the flower was that the inside middle was almost completely silver-white. Out in the wild, the flowers grow in little bunches close to the ground. During the day they are partially closed so only the red part of the petals is showing. When night falls and the moonlight comes over them they open up completely, and their middles seem to glow with a silvery light; thus the flowers are named _isilótë_, or the moon flower.

Now as Arien gazed at the flower it seemed to fade. She suddenly felt tired; of what or why she did not know. She had not spent enough time in Middle Earth to feel the weight of the Ages on her mind; nor did she know the joy of living in the Undying Lands under the light of the Trees, as her father did, for she was born in Middle Earth.

The deep blast of a horn startled her out of her reverie. She looked up and saw that the dwarves were preparing to leave. She stood and began to walk quickly toward her father, who was finalizing the trade with Orin.

Orin was finding it hard to concentrate. He was showing an ornately wrought scabbard (one he had made himself) to Belegon, who was praising his handiwork. His thoughts were scattered by the realization that the wood-lord was talking to him.

"This is truly magnificent work, Master Orin. I have never seen such detail in a piece of weaponry. What shall I give you for it?"

Orin looked up and saw Arien walking toward them. He suddenly felt drawn to her in a way that he had never felt before. He turned back to Belegon. "It is worth too much to me, lord. You do not have anything like it to match its worth, so I will not accept any payment." He held the scabbard up to Belegon. "May it be a gift to you from me," he said.

Belegon was taken by surprise. He was attempting to find the words to express his gratitude when Arien reached them.

"My dearest father, have you finished trading so soon?"

He turned to reply, but found that she was looking at Orin. "Master Orin has just shown me a splendid piece of metalwork. Would this not be a gift worthy of your husband?"

At this, both Arien and Orin looked up at Belegon, surprised. Arien looked intently at her father. "Father, what is the meaning of this? I have no husband. I do not even have a suitor. You have never even expressed your opinions or given thought to my getting married. Why do you say such things now?"

"I was speaking of the future, my dear. For your husband will be a warrior worthy of such things"

Arien was very perplexed by her father's words. He had never spoken of such things to her, let alone in front of another; and one who was not of their kind! Again she did not know how to reply so she kept silent. She looked back at Orin, who looked rather uncomfortable. He did not say anything either, but kept his eyes on his stuff.

Presently Belegon broke the silence. "Well, Master Orin, is this all you have for me this month?"

Orin looked up nervously, which was odd for a dwarf. He knew this and did not like it. He looked back to where the other dwarves were loading up the carts. "I have just remembered something that I left on the cart," he said. "I shall return with it in one moment."

He almost ran back to the cart in his haste, and began to search the cart frantically. Then he saw it. _Ah, _he thought to himself. _This will be perfect for her._

As Orin was searching for the gift, Belegon searched his daughter's eyes. He was very concerned by the way she spoke of the dwarf; and the way she looked at him made him worried. He had never thought the day would come when her attention would turn from him to another, and for it to be to someone other than of their kind was absolutely unheard of. For the first time in his 4,000 years he did not know what to do. He turned to Arien. "Arien," he said.

"Yes, father?"

"I love you." He could not find any other words.

"I love you too, father." For the first time Arien wondered at those words. She knew her father loved her, but rarely did he say it just so. She opened her mouth to say more, but at that moment Orin ran up holding a glittering something in his hand.

"What is this last trifle, Master Orin?" Belegon asked.

"Another gift, my lord." Orin held up a necklace to Arien. It was a pendant hung on a chain of mithril. The pendant itself was a deep red jewel, polished smooth and round, set in a delicately woven braid also made of mithril. Orin gently held it so that the jewel caught the light of the sun. "For you, my lady," Orin said softly. "It is the pendant of the sun-maiden; for whom you are named."

Arien took it and clasped it around her neck. It fit perfectly. The jewel shone like a red star, and graced her neck beautifully.

"Its beauty is perfected only by yours, lady." Again Orin spoke before thinking. He looked down embarrassed, and began to study the shaft of his axe. He was dreading the reaction of Belegon _and_ Arien, but nothing came. He was very surprised to find himself embraced by the Lady of the Morning Star; and more surprised when she kissed him on the forehead.

"Thank you, Orin," she said. "It is very beautiful."

Belegon looked at Orin in surprise. "I did not know that dwarves could be so eloquent. You have spoken well of my daughter's beauty."

Orin bowed low. "Thank you, lord." He could not find anything more eloquent to say.

The horn sounded again, signaling the dwarves' departure. Orin bowed low again and said, "May you have a blessed Tuilérë feast. I will return next month. Farewell." He turned and headed down the pathway to the gate of the village.

Arien kept watching Orin as he waked toward the gate. She turned back to her father only to find that he had returned to the Pavilion Square. She turned round and ran down the path to Orin. He saw her and stopped at the gate.

"My lord! Please, I must speak with you!" Arien almost surprised herself with her own words, and Orin was perplexed as well. "How do you know of such things, lady? I have told no one of my past or my relations to those of noble blood."

Arien knelt down and looked Orin in the eyes. "I wish to see you again. Soon."

"My lady? I do not know what to say, I—"

"Say that you will meet me in one week's time. I am going to honour my mother's grave and shall be alone. It is about one league north of here, just under the eaves of the Ered Luin."

Orin considered all that Arien said. He could not imagine that one of the Firstborn would ever love him; and one of such high blood. His nobility could not compare to that of an elf; he was only a dwarf, and an outcast of his people.

But he knew in the deepest part of his heart that he loved her. With that thought in his mind, he spoke. "What is this place called, and what does it look like, so that I may find you?"

"It is called Haudh-en-Elenna; for my mother; and it is in a small clearing surrounded by silver birch. The mound itself is covered in the red and silver _isilótë_," Arien had a sad, faraway look in her eyes. "I do not remember much about my mother except that she was very beautiful. My father says I look very much like her."

"Then she must have been very beautiful indeed." Orin turned to leave. "I will see you again, lady," he took her hand and gently kissed it. "Farewell, my love."

He closed the gate and was gone.

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_REVIEWS? I WOULD LOVE TO HEAR WHAT YOU ALL THINK OF THIS STORY SO FAR. AND IF YOU HAVE ANY SUGGESTIONS, FEEL FREE TO GIVE THEM._


	2. Chapter 2

_AN: This might seem a bit confusing at first, but just keep reading! And I promise that this is the last really long chapter. I got carried away with the story, and I could not find a good place to break it up, so I left it as is. And again, all characters that are familiar are Tolkien's, as well as the setting, names, etc…you know the drill._

Chapter Two

It was a bright midday in the middle of October, and Daewen was already exhausted. She had just finished pulling the weeds that surrounded the small cottage she shared with her grandfather. He had gone into town earlier in the day and would not be back until late that night, but she was used to this. He would go every day into town to listen to the news of the outside world. He never told her what was happening in the world, but on the few occasions that she would go into town with her grandfather she was able to gather what was happening in Middle Earth.

Daewen and her grandfather lived in a small cottage in a clearing of the Chetwood. This wood was about two or three leagues from the town of Bree, where much trading and traffic of people from all over Middle Earth would happen. Many would gather at the various inns to hear the news from those traveling through Bree. The Prancing Pony was usually where Daewen's grandfather would go; there he would converse with those who were visiting from other lands, but mostly he would sit and listen quietly, while keeping his opinions to himself.

As Daewen rested for a moment while sitting comfortably on a thick, low-hung branch of the old willow tree that stood near the cottage, her mind started to drift, and she began to think about the last time she visited Bree with her grandfather. It was late in October of last year, 3018, and after buying their usual weekly supply of food and the occasional purchase of fabric for the mending of clothes they stopped at the Prancing Pony. There were more people there than usual, and everyone was talking about the same thing.

Daewen recalled an old man who related a story about four strange hobbits who had come to the Prancing Pony about one month before. They were very mysterious and kept to themselves for the most part, and he claimed that one of them had the power to disappear completely. He said that the hobbit was singing and dancing on the table one moment, and the next moment he was gone. The old man said he vanished into thin air! Then he told of how the invisible hobbit never really left the inn; he stayed invisible during the day and came out at night to eat and steal things from those staying at the inn while they were asleep. He then proceeded to pull out various objects and watch as the people listening to him would exclaim that that was their coat, or hat, or their boot.

Daewen knew that the old man was telling a very exaggerated story; she thought that he lifted those items himself. But she somehow knew that part of his story was true. She believed that the hobbit disappeared even though she did not know how he did it. She also noticed that her grandfather listened very intently as the old man told his tale, and he tried to get more information from the old man. When that did not work, he went to the innkeeper, Barliman Butterbur, who said that all four hobbits left with a strange man, one of the rangers who wandered in the wild North. Daewen's grandfather pressed Butterbur for more information, but as the innkeeper did not know anything else, she and her grandfather left the inn and headed home.

As they rode home on their one horse Daewen began to wonder at her grandfather's interest in the strange hobbits. He did not say anything, but rode fast towards the Chetwood. Daewen decided to ask him about it when they got home. She was very curious about the strange hobbits and this ranger the innkeeper had talked about. He had made it seem a dangerous thing for these hobbits to be traveling into the wild with a ranger, who, for some reason, Daewen did not think was a dangerous person.

When Daewen and her grandfather reached the clearing in the Chetwood, he reined in the horse and told Daewen to take it to the small stable that sat next to the cottage. He hurried into the house, muttering to himself. Daewen did not know what was bothering him, but she did not think too much of it. She knew her grandfather would not say anything to her so she did not ask. Still, she thought his attitude might have something to do with what went on at the Prancing Pony.

As Daewen came from the stable to the cottage she heard her grandfather inside. It sounded as though he was frantically looking for something. She stepped inside.

"Grandfather, is something wrong?"

As she came through the door she saw her grandfather stuff a tightly wrapped bundle into a small wooden chest that she recognized as the one he kept under his bed. He stood up quickly with an irritated look on his face and stepped towards Daewen.

"Of course nothing is wrong," he said. "Must you always be so curious? That sort of thing is not right for a girl your age." He scowled and turned back towards the chest. Daewen stood there silent for a moment. Then she decided to ask her grandfather what she had been dying to know since they left Bree. "Grandfather, I know I shouldn't be so curious, but I was wondering: what is so important about that hobbit who disappeared? I have never heard of a hobbit having any sort of magic, so how did he get it? And why did he and his companions go off into the wild with a ranger?" She looked out the window off into the distance. "I wonder where they were going…" she trailed off, lost in thought. Her grandfather brought her back to attention. "Who do you think you are, child?" he sneered. "Are you the High Queen of all Middle Earth, so you _must_ know all that happens in this world? And there is no such thing as magic; that is for infant's tales and such. I have told you too many times to curb your inquisitiveness.

"I would think you ungrateful for all I have done for you. Have you forgotten that I alone have taken care of you all of the years of your life? And your poor mother and father killed when you were just an infant. What would _they_ think?" He looked hard at her, but she did not give in. She stared back at him with a glimmer of tears in her bright green eyes, silently defiant, until he spoke again. "Because of your inability to extinguish your curiosity, I am forbidding you to go back into Bree. You may never go with me or by yourself. If I find that you have disobeyed me, you will be very sorry." He turned and stalked into the one bedroom of the cottage, which was his. Daewen, unable to hold back her tears, turned and ran from the cottage. She came to the old willow and swung herself up to the low branch that she loved to sit in. she sat there and cried.

Now, as Daewen sat in that tree, she brushed a few tears from her eyes as she remembered back to that day. It had been almost a year since then, and her grandfather was very careful to see that she did not even venture past the eaves of the Chetwood. She began to wonder how her grandfather, who was her own blood, would treat her so. He never spoke a kind word, and he made her work all the time. She felt like his servant more than his granddaughter at times, for he often spoke harshly to her, and criticised her every thought and word. He never once offered to take her anywhere he went, unless he needed her to carry what they would buy in Bree, or if the journey would be more than a day, for he never left her alone overnight. He said he was afraid she would run away into the wild and not return. That was usually followed with a sharp chastisement of her behaviour, for he said she was too independent for a girl. He always treated her like a child, too. She did not know what to do. She wished that she could fly away to some other place than the Chetwood. She wished she could have gone with the hobbits and the ranger into the other places of Middle Earth. She could not remember living anywhere else other than that cottage in that clearing. She did not even really know what lay beyond the Chetwood and Bree. No one had ever told her, even if she asked. As she sat there, she heard her grandfather's horse gallop into the clearing, and his voice. He was calling her, so she jumped down from the tree and ran into the cottage.

Daewen's grandfather stopped the horse in the middle of the small yard in front of the house. He got off and called to Daewen again.

"Yes, grandfather?" Daewen came out of the cottage as if she had been there the whole time he had been gone. "What is it?"

"Have you been here the whole time I have been gone?" he said. He looked very anxious and upset. "I have heard some very startling news about the war that has been going on in the East. Did anything happen while I was gone?"

Now Daewen was completely confused. "No, nothing has happened here. I have been here the whole time. Look," she pointed to where the weeds used to be. "I finished pulling the weeds as you asked me to do."

"That is good," he replied distractedly. "Now I must take some things and return to Bree. Take this water skin, go down to the stream and fill it. I shall need it." He handed her the water skin and turned to take the horse to the stable. She stood there for a moment, still perplexed by her grandfather's behaviour, but then she gathered her thoughts and headed down a pathway to the stream which was about fifty yards from the cottage.

When she reached the stream, she stopped for a moment. She looked back in the direction from which she came, and smiled. The cottage was nowhere to be seen from the stream. For a little while she could be alone. She knelt down by the water and looked into the stream. What she saw was her own reflection: her long, thick, curly hair that was the colour of the deep red sunset was pulled back from her face into braids, with a few strands that had come undone while she worked. She pushed these back and looked at her face. She did not think she looked very much like her grandfather. Whereas he had grey hair that was balding on top, a bushy black beard, and thick eyebrows that shadowed his piercing black eyes, she had red hair, and bright green eyes that shone like emeralds. They were also piercing, but in a different way. She also noted that she was much fairer in skin than he, and she was undoubtedly taller. She wondered how such a person could be related to her; he was so different in body _and_ spirit. He was domineering and intolerant; she was kind and always looked for the best in everything, including him. But as she looked at her reflection and thought back to that day when he had dashed all her dreams of seeing the rest of Middle Earth, she saw that there was no good in him. She also realised that she had to do something about the way he treated her.

She looked up and saw that the sun was shining low and from the East through the trees. She filled the water skin; while she was doing this she looked down at her hands. They were long and slender, and she was surprised that they were not hard and brown from the years of working in the cottage and outside. She stood up and began to walk back to the cottage. She noticed every tree and animal that passed her way, and wished that she could find a wood that she could live in, alone and undisturbed. If she had a place such as that she could do as she pleased; she could sing and dance underneath the moon until She set and the sun came to take Her place.

Daewen arrived at the cottage just before sunset. The clearing was very quiet. She stepped into the cottage and found that her grandfather was not there. She would not have bothered with noting that had he not asked her to take care of his water skin and bring it back to him. She thought maybe he was in the stable so she left the cottage and went to the stable. She carefully stepped into the stable, only to find that although the horse was there, her grandfather was not. He had left the saddle and bridle on the horse, and he had not even locked the stall. She became worried, and ran back to the cottage. There was still no sign of her grandfather anywhere. She ran to him room and peeked inside. Usually she would not even think about venturing into his room, it was his private place. She usually slept on a small bed in one of the corners of the larger main room. But now her curiosity overcame her.

She opened the door slowly, so as not to disturb her grandfather if he was inside. She tiptoed into the room and found that it was empty of everything except the bed. _Her grandfather and all his possessions had disappeared!_ Daewen sank to the floor in despair. Could he really have abandoned her? She looked around the room and spotted something in the corner near the window. It was gleaming in the last light of the sun. She stood up and slowly walked over to it. She knelt down to pick it up and saw that it was a necklace. It was a pendant; some metal that shone like nothing else she had seen was delicately braided and set into it was the most beautiful red jewel she had ever seen. The chain upon which it hung was made of the same metal as the setting of the pendant. She held it up to look at it in the light. As the sun shone through it, it cast a red glow about the room. She stood back up and looked at it. She somehow knew that it did not belong to her grandfather, but she herself was not stealing it. She clasped it about her neck, and it fit perfectly. She suddenly felt very tired, so she decided to worry about her plight later. She left her grandfather's room and shut the door. Then she walked over to her bed in the corner, cast herself onto it and immediately fell asleep.

The sun was shining brightly through the westward window when Daewen awoke. She sat up feeling refreshed, and headed down to the stream to bathe. She did not think anything of her current situation, but was grateful for the fact that no one was there to tell her to get to work, or to stop thinking of what was happening in another land, or magic. She walked slowly on her way to the stream, drinking in the sunlight and watching the world come to life.

When Daewen came back to the cottage, she began to think of what she must do to take care of herself now that her grandfather was gone. Then the thought hit her; _my grandfather is gone! I can do whatever I wish!_ She twirled around, laughing. Now she knew what she would do.

Daewen entered the cottage and looked around. She grabbed a sack and stuffed her cloak and some food into it. She also put what little money she had hidden away into a small bag and tied it to her belt. Then she went into her grandfather's room to see if he had left anything that would be of use to her. Underneath his bed she found a small dagger in a plain leather sheath; this she also tied to her belt. In the left-hand upper corner of the room she found a small book; it looked like some sort of journal. It was written in her grandfather's handwriting. Most of it was written in a language she did not know, but some of it was written in familiar letters. She decided to read it later and put it in the sack with the rest of her meager belongings.

Daewen swept the floor of the cottage and left the door unlatched. She thought that if some wandering traveler happened by they could make good use of it. She grabbed a blanket, rolled it and tied it to her sack, then turned and headed towards the stable.

When she reached to stable, she went inside and entered the horse's stall. He started a bit, for he was uncomfortable with the saddle still on his back. Daewen stroked his nose to calm him down and took off the saddle and bridle. She never liked to use them when she rode the horse, for she found that she could control the horse without them. She brushed him until he shone, then led him out of the stable. When she was outside, she jumped onto the horse's back. She looked back at the cottage and thought to herself, _Goodbye. I hope I never see this place again._ Then she whispered to the horse and was off towards Bree.

Daewen took her time on the way to Bree. She wanted to enjoy the journey and be able to pay attention to her surroundings. She rode rather steadily for about five miles, but she stopped often to look at the different flowers and trees she had never noticed the other times she had traveled to Bree with her grandfather.

It was late afternoon by the time she reached the half-way point of her journey. She had sighted the Old Road, but she decided to stop and eat before starting again. She dismounted her horse and tethered it to a nearby tree. She sat down on the soft, cool grass and pulled out of her sack some bread and an apple. As she reached for her water she noticed her grandfather's journal. She pulled that out as well and began to read while she ate.

The journal was small and very old. It was bound with faded black leather, and the pages were yellowed with age. It had a strange inscription in gold on the front in a language that Daewen did not understand. She carefully opened the book and found the same strange language written in thick, bold handwriting that looked almost angry. She turned a few pages that were filled with writing. She began to recognise the letters after the fifth page, so she started to read.

_December 26, 1696_

_This new task Lord Sauron has bestowed upon me is rather strange. It seems that an elvish seer has told of an elf-child that will grow to be the bane of all my master's plans. It has been told to me that this child has descended from a mixed line of elves and dwarves. Her kin have been all but extinguished, but her father and mother still live. They must be destroyed, as well as this child. I, Túrthalion, lieutenant to Lord Sauron, have been appointed to carry out this thing, and I mean to do it well. My spies have located the child and have been sent out to retrieve her and kill her parents. But I myself must destroy her for the prophecy to be undone. For now I await them, and purpose to do nothing else until my task is complete. _

_January 18, 1697_

_The child has come to me at last! She is still an infant, but already she has a spirit of fire in her. She is fair to look upon, and she has curly, deep red hair; something I have never seen in that of an elf. I suppose it comes from her dwarvish descent, but it is a rather spectacular thing to see. The seer had said that this elf-child was the bearer of some great power. I think that it would be a great thing if she was to be on Sauron's side. If she does possess such powers, then she should not be destroyed but trained to serve Sauron. I have decided to relay this to my master, and I hope that he will agree with me._

_February 28, 1697_

_I have been cast out of my master's presence and service. It seems that he was not pleased with my intentions for the child. Instead he sent me and the child away to the furthest regions of the Northern wild, near the regions of Angmar. I have struggled to find shelter and stay alive in this place, but the child appears to be well. I have named her _Daewen_, which means "maiden of the shadow". She has grown much in this time, and is still very spirited in nature. I believe that I shall stay here with her for a while, if I can find substantial food and a permanent place of shelter. The only comfort I have in my current situation is that I shall live until Lord Sauron is destroyed (though I think that shall not come to pass) for I have bound my life and soul to him forever._

_April 15, 1717 _

_It has been about twenty years from what I can reckon in this lonely wilderness. I regret not laying down the account of what has come to pass over these long years. I have spent all my time raising Daewen and attempting to train her in the ways of my master, but to no avail. She is the most obstinate elf I have ever dealt with. She insists on being terribly independent and curious about everything. But I am beginning to understand what the seer prophesied. Daewen seems to have an innate sense of who to trust; she is not even one hundred years old yet and already her mind perceives even the deepest thoughts of others. Unfortunately since there is no one else living near us I am the object of her mind perception. It is no easy task raising her, for she somehow sees that I am not like her, and she does not give the undue respect for Lord Sauron that I expect of her. She has already perceived him as an enemy, although I have always spoken of him as otherwise. As of this moment I do not know what action to take against this growing threat of her abilities as an elf. I shall have to go to my books to find a solution, but it will be no easy ta—_

Here was where the page ended, for the bottom half had been torn off. Daewen was astonished. She was an elf? She could not believe what she was reading. She did not feel like an elf and she could not remember any of this man's account. She did not even know where Angmar was. Perhaps this was not her grandfather's journal; perhaps there was an elf that had the same name as her. Daewen turned a few more pages and found another entry.

_August 19, 1978_

_I have attained information through my black arts that Sauron's spirit has settled in Mordor in the far East, where he is slowly building his reign of power. He has lost his ring of power, but he has not been vanquished. _

_We are now completely isolated here in the North, for the Witch-King of Angmar has been completely defeated by the elvish forces that fortunately did not discover me and Daewen. It has been almost four thousand years now, so I have planned to move us closer to civilization. About fifty leagues from here is the small forest of the Chetwood. It is near the trading town of Bree, so I shall be able to learn of what is happening in the rest of Middle Earth while keeping Daewen away from society. _

_The spell that I cast on her has worked splendidly. She believes that she is as human as I, and I have told her that she is only eighteen years old. She will believe that until the spell is undone, for it wipes out her memory every three hundred years. I do not speak to her of Sauron anymore; I have told her that I am her grandfather. Of her parents I have told her that they died when she was born; she did not require a reason as to the cause of their deaths. _

Daewen turned the page only to find it blank. As she flipped through the rest of the small book she did not find anything else of importance or understanding. She realised that the journal _was_ speaking of her, and that her "grandfather" was really the servant of some dark lord called Sauron. She tried to remember what happened before living in the Chetwood, but her memory was blank. She did not know what to do about the journal or her lost life. She looked up at the sky and realized that it was getting late. She stuffed the journal back into her sack and mounted her horse.

By the time Daewen reached the town gate the sun had disappeared below the horizon, but there was still some light in the sky. She rode up to the gate and knocked. From behind the other side of the gate she heard someone fumbling with the lock. The gate window opened a crack, and Daewen could barely make out a face.

"Wot is all this 'ere? Travellers aft'r dark?"

Daewen looked at the old gatekeeper. He looked more scared than anything. She smiled. "Please, I am come form the North and do not have anywhere else to stay for the night; and I think it is not that dark yet."

The gatekeeper held up a lantern and peered out at her. "Well," he said, "I 'ave t' keep real careful-like nowadays; wot with all this talk of strange going-ons and such. You'll 'ave to pardon me way of speakin', it's wot comes with me job." He looked at her up and down. "You don't look like a dangerous one now, sorta pretty you are, fr'm wot I can make out in this light. 'Ere, I'll open th' gate for you." He slowly opened the gate just enough to let Daewen through with her horse. He tipped his old cap to her. " 'Ave a nice night, lady. Do you 'ave a place to stay 'ere in Bree?"

"Yes, I do. Thank you very much." Daewen rode off towards the Prancing Pony and the gatekeeper went back to his place by the gate.

As Daewen rode through the town, she saw that it had changed much since the last time she had visited. It was much more quiet, even for nighttime, and those out on the streets looked suspicious of everyone else. She spotted the Prancing Pony and turned her horse in that direction.

She reached the stable of the inn and was met by a good-natured but scared-looking hobbit. He stepped up to her when she dismounted her horse.

"Are you staying here tonight, miss?"

"Yes, I am," Daewen said.

"Well, I can take your horse for you. I'll see that it gets good feed and water." He took the reins and started to lead the horse away.

"Thank you," Daewen called out after him.

She walked over to the inn. As she stepped into the inn, she was met with an amazing sight. There was barely anyone in the main room, and the few who were there were very quiet and talked amongst themselves in hushed tones. This was not at all the Prancing Pony that she remembered. She went over to where the innkeeper, Barliman Butterbur, was standing behind the counter. He saw her and immediately brightened up.

"Ah! A customer. Would you like a room for the night, miss? I have plenty of rooms on the first and second floor. You'll have to pardon the way things are around here. What with all that's happening in other parts of the world has got my inn a real hard place to be. Especially since strange men went on up to The Shire and started bossing people around," He sighed. "It has been real hard times for my business, but there seems to be nothing done about it." He looked hard at her. "Where did you say you came from, miss?

"I did not say where I came from. But I am not any sort of enemy, if you were thinking that. I would like a room and bath, if you please, and a hot meal." She pulled out her small bag of money, "How much will it be?"

Butterbur smiled. "Do not worry about that right now, miss. I will show you to a fine room we have on the second floor. Is that all right with you—the second floor, I mean? They are nicer upstairs, and no one will bother you."

"Yes, the second floor will be fine. Thank you very much."

Daewen's room was small and sparsely furnished, but the bed had plenty of warm blankets. She set her sack down and threw herself onto the bed. She lay there for a few moments and thought about the recent events. She still did not know what to think of the journal entries. It appeared that the man who had pretended to be her grandfather had stolen her from her parents and her people, the elves. She still could not believe that she was really an elf, and one with dwarvish blood as well. She wanted to know what really had happened, but she did not know anyone who would remember such things. She got up from the bed and walked over to the standing mirror. She looked at herself. She did not look like an elf. She had never actually seen one, but she had heard enough tales in Bree to know what one would look like, and she did not think that she was it. She was wearing a simple woolen dress that was a faded brown and green colour, with a leather belt that held her money and the small dagger she found in the cottage. Her hair was unkempt because of the ride through the Chetwood; she undid it from its place and ran her fingers through it. She had never heard of an elf with red hair, no matter what the journal said. From what she had heard, elves had golden or silver or jet hair. She sighed and looked down at the pendant hung around her neck. It was the only thing that looked worthy enough to be considered "elven" to her. She fingered it for a moment, thinking of her past. She wished she could remember it all, but for now she had to be content with knowing it was a mystery. She decided to take a hot bath before heading downstairs to eat.

As Daewen headed down the stairs she overheard the innkeeper talking with someone. This someone had a deep voice that stirred the heart of Daewen. She came to the main room and saw who the innkeeper was conversing with. There were actually five people standing at the counter and they looked very strange. There were four hobbits, all of whom were wearing grey cloaks. Two of them were almost a head taller than the others, and they had mail and small swords underneath the cloaks. They looked confident but worn, as with travel or some great task. The other two hobbits looked worn as well, especially one who looked as if he had had the weight of the world on his shoulders at one time. The innkeeper was talking to the fifth member of the small party. This was the one whom Daewen had heard speak. He was tall and commanding in manner. He also wore a grey cloak that reached the ground. A white robe peeked out beneath it, and a soft, white light seemed to be all around him. He had a large, white, pointed hat upon his head and long white hair. His beard was also white, and piercing blue eyes shone from underneath his thick, jutting eyebrows. He looked old, but strong and wise. Daewen walked over to the counter and sat down. She continued to watch the strange travellers as they were shown to a room on the first floor. As she sat there she realised that the old man was looking at her intently. She did not want to appear rude so she smiled. He smiled back and walked over to her.

"Do you mind if I sit here next to you?" he asked. He was still looking closely at her as if he knew who she was.

"I do not mind at all, sir. Pardon me, but you seem as if you know me. Is that so?"

He pointed to her necklace. "Where did you get that necklace from?"

"I found it, sir," then she hastily added, "I did not steal it. I am not that type of person."

He smiled again, and it made Daewen feel warm inside. "Do not worry, child. I accuse you of nothing. Tell me, how did you come to be here in Bree?"

"I travelled here on horseback from the Chetwood. I used to live there with my—" here she stopped. "I lived there for some time it seems."

The old man looked harder at her. "With whom did you live? It is alright; I will not do you any harm, child."

Somehow Daewen felt as if she could trust this man with all she knew. "I lived there with a man who claimed to be my grandfather. But about two days ago he left and has not returned."

"You say he claimed to be your grandfather; if he was not, then who was he? And why did he leave you so suddenly?"

Daewen thought back to the events of two days ago. Why _had_ this man left so suddenly? She looked back at the old man. "I do not know why he left me, but I know I was glad to be rid of him. He treated me horribly; nothing like a grandfather would be, I expect. When I searched his room to see if I could find anything as to why he left, I found this:" here she pulled out the small journal she had put in her dress pocket. She handed it to the old man. "I could only read some of it, for most of it was written in another language. But I do not understand what it means."

He took the book and opened it. He read some of it, and as he did his eyes grew wide with surprise. He looked back at Daewen, and then read some more. After a few pages he stopped.

"Do you know what it means?" Daewen asked him. "I think it speaks of me, but I could not possibly be that person, could I?"

The man looked very grave now. "What is your name, child?"

"Daewen, sir."

He opened the book again and flipped through a few pages. He looked back at Daewen. " I must speak with you about this in private. Come, we will go into the parlour. No one will bother us there." He stood up and began to walk to the parlour. Daewen hesitated for a moment, but when he beckoned for her to follow she ran after him.

"You are the one spoken about in this book."

Daewen and the old man were sitting in the dimly lit parlour of the Prancing Pony, and he had just spoken the words that Daewen feared were true.

"How do you know about me, sir? And _who_ are you, for that matter?"

"I am Gandalf, and I have been searching for you for a very long time. For now, that is all you need know about me."

Daewen looked at Gandalf. He appeared very serious. He also seemed to know much more about Daewen than _she_ knew. She wanted to know about her past, and why this strange man had been looking for her.

"It appears that you know more about me than I do," she said. "Tell me, why have you been looking for me? Who am I to be of such great importance? I am nothing but a lowly servant girl who ran away when her master did not return. That is nothing significant."

Gandalf produced a long pipe from the fold of his robe and lit it. His eyes looked even more piercing in the light of the small fire, and he furrowed his brow. "You are not whom you appear to be. I shall tell all that concerns you, for you are still of great importance to all that happens here in Middle Earth.

"Your real name is Morgiel Carnimírië. You are the daughter of Míriel, an elf who was the daughter of Arien, also an elf, and Orin, a dwarf. You were born in 1696 of the Second Age. When you were born, a seer foretold of your destiny to one day rid Middle Earth of evil once and for all. At this time all of Middle Earth was at war with a powerful and evil being known as Sauron. He somehow obtained this information and appointed his lieutenant to find you and destroy you and your parents. This way none of your kin; that is, none with elf and dwarf blood, would remain alive to destroy him. This lieutenant of his found you and carried you off. Your parents were killed in the battle that destroyed their land, and those who were left alive searched everywhere for you, to no avail. You had been missing for a little over one thousand years when I came to your people. Their king asked me to search for you as I travelled throughout Middle Earth. The other Elven-kingdoms were notified of you disappearance and your importance to the fate of all Middle Earth. We have, amidst other things, been searching for you for over four thousand years and through two ages. The Third Age has ended, and the Fourth begun; to have found you at such a time as this is truly a miraculous thing," he paused to blow a few smoke rings into the air. Daewen considered all that he had said.

"So how old am I really? My grand—Túrthalion told me I was eighteen years of age."

Gandalf took his pipe from his mouth. "You, my dear, are four thousand, seven hundred sixty-four years of age. Does this surprise you?"

Daewen thought about it for a moment. It was hard for her to believe all that Gandalf was telling her, but somehow it seemed to be true. She ran her fingers through her hair.

"No, somehow it just seems right. I certainly do not _feel_ four thousand years old. But what I do not understand is this: I do not look _anything_ like an elf. Do not elves have dark or golden hair? For mine is red. And when I look into a mirror, my appearance is that of a normal, human girl; not that of an elf-woman. And to be of noble blood; that indeed is a wonder to me. How does this tale come together?"

Gandalf smiled and set down his pipe. "Your mother's mother fell in love with and married a dwarf. I know it sounds rather strange, but it is true. Because of your dwarvish blood-line you have red hair. You are of noble blood because again, your grandmother was the daughter of an elf-lord, and your grandfather was a dwarf-lord. Now all that remains of that nobility is you, my lady."

Daewen was surprised at her apparent title of "lady". She had never been treated so. She looked at Gandalf intently. "How do I fit into this tale? You said that it was foretold that I would be the one to end all evil in Middle Earth; if that is my task, how do I go about doing it?"

"You must find Túrthalion and destroy him. He is the last of evil left here in Middle Earth. Do not worry, you will not have to do this completely alone. I have found someone who has agreed to help you on your quest, and I think you shall find the company quite pleasant as well. I shall take you to your first destination, where you will be given complete directions for what you must do. You shall also receive some well-needed training before you start your journey."

Daewen was eager to begin her task. "When shall we start? And where are we going?"

Gandalf smiled again. "You shall start off tomorrow morning. I must see to some business tomorrow and shall catch up with you in one day's time. Our destination is Rivendell, the former home of Master Elrond Half-elven; he has left Middle Earth, but there are still those left who can be of help to you," he paused to light his pipe.

Daewen stood up and walked to the window. She looked out over the dark land and thought about her task. She did not know where to find this man who had stolen her life from her, but she felt confident that Gandalf would help her somehow. And this person he talked about seemed to be experienced in this sort of thing. She wondered what sort of training she would need, and how she would start her journey. So many questions piled up in her mind, and she did not know where to start.

"How do I start my way to Rivendell, Gandalf? I have never been outside the Chetwood to the East. And what sort of training to I need? I know how to ride a horse, and I know how to cook."

Gandalf laughed. "My dear child, there is much you will learn before your task is completed. Do not worry yourself with such things at this moment. I will tell you all you need to know when the time is right. For now, when you start tomorrow take the South-gate out of Bree and head down the Great East Road, which you will follow all the way there. Be sure to stop nights and rest. There is no need for hurry yet, for I have not even located Sauron's servant yet. When I meet up with you I will tell you what to do next. Is everything clear to you?"

Daewen could think of many things that were not clear to her, but she knew they could wait. She stood up. "Yes everything is clear. I understand what I must do for now. I will see you in two days. Now I think I should get some rest. Good night, Gandalf."

Here Gandalf took Daewen's hand and bowed low. "Good night, my lady Morgiel. May you fare well on your journey."

They left the parlour, and as Daewen, or Morgiel as we now must call her, turned to head up the stairs Gandalf called to her. "Morgiel, do you have any way of protecting yourself?"

"Yes," she said. She produced the small dagger from her belt. "I know how to use this, and I run fast as well."

"Good. You never know when you may need it. Good night my lady." He turned and headed to his room.

The next morning, everyone was so busy with the strange guests that no one noticed Morgiel leave. Gandalf saw her off and gave her his blessing.

"Stay on the Great East Road, and be sure to stop at night. There are no dangers to be accounted for, but be careful. I shall meet you in two days. Until then, farewell."

Morgiel found her horse in the stable, ready to leave. She stroked his mane and buried her face in his neck. _I thought elves were supposed to be fearless and brave, _she thought. She looked up from her horse and mounted. _I will not fail Gandalf. I will not fail Middle Earth._ She rode towards the South-gate feeling more confident than before.

As she began her way down the Great East Road with the sun rising behind her, the sunlight was caught in her hair, and a soft red light seemed to hang around her. She breathed the fresh morning air and smiled. _I am going to see the elves. I will finally be reunited with my people after almost five thousand years. _She was on her way to Rivendell.

_REVIEWS? DO YOU LIKE IT SO FAR? LET ME KNOW!_


	3. Chapter 3

_AN: Okay, I could not wait to post the next chapter, so here it is. Again, everything except for Morgiel, Túrthalion,and the plot to this story belongs to Tolkien._

Chapter Three

The rain came down hard and fast as Morgiel struggled to find shelter. It had been two days since she left Bree, and as of yet Gandalf had not come. The sun was setting, but it was hidden behind the thick black clouds. Morgiel looked all around her. She was at Weathertop, the old watch tower of Men, and the place where Gandalf had said he would meet her. But he was not there, and there was nowhere she could rest and not get wet. She finally found a small over-hang in the eroding tower and ran underneath it. She pulled her soaking wet cloak around her tightly and sat there, huddled against the rock. Her poor horse could not fit, so he stood sadly in the rain, blinking every time the rain would strike his face. Morgiel peered out across the plain. '_Where ARE you, Gandalf,'_ she thought to herself. '_You said you would come.'_ She thought of lighting a fire, but the rain beat against the rocks even harder in answer. She was just about to give up when she saw something coming quickly over the plain. It was like a flash of light in the darkness of the rain. As it came closer Morgiel realised that it was Gandalf. He was riding on the most beautiful horse she had ever seen. It was a silver-grey, and a soft light seemed to shine about it. For a moment Morgiel forgot that she was wet and cold. The horse neighed and suddenly Gandalf was in front of her.

"Gandalf!" she cried. "I thought you would not come."

He looked down on her and smiled. "My child, why did you think such things? Did I not say that I would meet you in two days? It is the second day, and I am here." He dismounted his horse, and Morgiel wondered at him, for he was barely damp.

"It was getting dark," she said. "I did not know when you would come on the second day. I have had a rather rough journey, for it began to rain almost immediately after I left Bree. It has been raining on and off since then. I was worried that it would delay you perhaps."

"Do not worry about me, lady. Nothing of the sort could delay me; and I always keep a promise. Now I do believe the rain is letting up."

Morgiel looked up and saw that it was no longer raining. She stood up and followed Gandalf up the path to the top of the tower. She looked around at the erect stones that once were pillars. Now they were but a memory of the great Men who had built the tower long ago. She touched the pillar nearest her, and it seemed to quiver with the sounds of ancient cries and thoughts of the men who had lived and died within its confines.

She and Gandalf had now reached the top of what was left of the tower. It was wide and flat, with the remains of a stone chair here and there. The pillars rose ominously everywhere; some still held up the arches that had supported the roof which was long ago torn down. Morgiel rolled out her blanket and laid it down on the wet ground while Gandalf built a fire.

"Are you comfortable, lady?" Gandalf sat down near her and held his hands out to the growing fire.

"As comfortable as one can be in such conditions. But I shall not complain. Tell me, is there more to my past?"

Gandalf looked serious now. He turned to Morgiel and said, "Would you know everything?"

"Yes, I would," she replied. She looked as serious as he.

"Very well then, I will start from the beginning.

"It was at the end of the First Age when your grandmother, Arien, met Orin, the dwarf whom you are related to. Arien lived in Ossiriand, which was in the realm of Beleriand near the Ered Luin, or Blue Mountains. This was before the world was changed the first time, for Beleriand was swallowed by the Sea in the Second Age. Arien and Orin married in spite of her father's wishes, and your mother, Míriel, was born. Very soon after this an elf of Arien's village, who had asked for her hand in marriage, found out that she had married a dwarf, and had a child. He was enraged and sought out Orin and killed him. Arien was forced to come back to her village with Míriel. After some time she consented to marry this elf, with whom she had two other children. But Míriel was shunned by her half-siblings because of her blood-line, so she kept to herself. After about five years most of the village relocated to the land of Eregion, near the Misty Mountains. They lived there in peace for a while until Sauron, a Dark Lord, forged his Ring of Power and began to wield its power. By this time Míriel had married and was with child. A seer of their people foretold of that child's hand in the fate of evil that dwelt in Middle Earth. She would be the one to rid Middle Earth of evil forever. That child is you, my lady.

"But Sauron had spies in all the land, and heard of this prophecy. He appointed Túrthalion to find you and destroy you and your parents. When Sauron's army made their way through Middle Earth, the elves united to fight against him. Your father fought as well, and died trying to save your village. Your mother was killed in the orc-raid that destroyed the land of Eregion, and you were taken to Túrthalion. As you know, he kept you for a very long time. He was deserted by Sauron, and I speculate that only when he found out that Sauron had been destroyed forever did he go back to where his master had reigned in power and abandon you. He realised that you were never going to serve the evil powers that dominated his life, so he left.

"He correctly assumed that you would be capable of caring for yourself, but he never thought that you would encounter someone who would know who you really were."

"But if he has cast this spell on me, then how would anyone know who I was?" Morgiel asked. "I don't think I look or act much like an elf."

Gandalf poked the fire with his staff. "The spell that Túrthalion cast over you will not be completely removed until he is dead. But it is beginning to fade.

"When Túrthalion entered into Sauron's service, he was given a prolonged life-span in return for that service. Now that Sauron is gone, Túrthalion's life and power will begin to fade. In fact, I suspect that it has already faded considerably, for I am beginning to see changes in you, my dear. As his power over you fades, the spell will grow increasingly less. But not until he is completely destroyed will it be gone forever."

Morgiel stared into the fire. She was rather overwhelmed at first by all Gandalf had said, but now it did not seem so ominous a thing. She somehow knew that everything would be all right in the end. The only thing that worried her was that she could not see the end of her quest. She turned to Gandalf and opened her mouth to speak. "Gandalf, what am I to do when—" _CRRAACK!_ a sudden flash of lightning signaled the return of rain, and Morgiel hastily pulled her hood far down over her head. Gandalf did the same as the rain began to pour down upon them. There was nowhere to keep out of the rain, so they stayed where they were in the dark. The rain let up a bit and Morgiel turned to Gandalf once more. "As I was saying, what am I to do when we reach Rivendell? Are you going to stay and teach me all I need to know for my quest?"

"My lady, I shall journey with you until we reach Rivendell, then I must go. Master Elrond has been told of your plight, and he shall be able to help you before he sails over the Sea. His sons, Elladan and Elrohir, will also assist you in your training. I have business to attend to elsewhere, so I shall not be able to stay long," he paused and looked around. "Now, my dear, I think you should try to get what rest you may in this weather, for we have a long journey ahead of us. It takes about fifteen days to reach Rivendell, so we must make haste. I will keep watch while you sleep. Good night." He turned to the smoking remains of the fire. There was a small flash of blue light and the fire started again in spite of the rain. Morgiel wrapped herself as well as she could in her cloak and laid down. She did not know how anyone could sleep in such conditions, but soon her eyes closed and she drifted off to sleep.

The next morning came with no sun. As Morgiel and Gandalf made their way across the plains the clouds did not break, but sent fits of rain down upon the two travellers. They rode for most of the day without stopping, and continued like this for many days. To Morgiel, the clouds seemed to bring a foreboding sense of what was to come. She did not think she would feel so low if the sun was shining.

It was now the twelfth day of their journey. They were now surrounded by hills, and a wood-tangled valley opened up before them. They entered and began to pick their way through it as well as they could. When the sky began to darken behind the clouds they stopped. Gandalf found a small clearing and guided Morgiel to it. They dismounted when they reached the clearing and began to set up camp. Morgiel led her horse to a nearby tree and tethered him to it. She noticed that Gandalf did nothing with his horse, for it stayed near hers and did not wander off. She went over to where Gandalf was starting a fire and set down her sack and bedroll. She sat down near the fire.

"Gandalf," she said. "How do you keep your horse from wandering off? I see you ride with no saddle, like me, but you do not even tether him to a tree or to a stake in the ground. How is that?

Gandalf sat down next to her and lit his pipe. "My horse is unique. He cannot be tamed by anyone other than myself. He is descended from the great horses of old, the Mearas, whom the horse lords of the East rode in battle. His name is Shadowfax, and he has been a great help to me in time of need. I let him do as he pleases for he will always come when I call for him." Gandalf fell silent and held his hands over the fire. Morgiel suddenly felt tired, so she reached for her blanket and began to spread it on the ground.

"You are not hungry, Morgiel?" Gandalf turned to her, his pipe still in his mouth.

"No, I do not feel like eating at the moment. I am rather tired, actually, so I thought I would sleep since we still have a few days to travel yet."

"Three days, to be precise," Gandalf said. "But if you are not hungry, then I will let you sleep. We will be starting for the Ford of Rivendell tomorrow. If we keep our pace up, we may reach the Ford in less than three days. The River itself may be swollen though because of the rain. Well then, good night."

He went back to his pipe. The night grew dark around them, and as the fire died down all that was to be seen was the hunched, black shape of Gandalf sitting in their small camp. As the night continued a slight wind blew the clouds away, and the stars reached out their pent-up light to the earth.

As the sun rose over the grey valley Morgiel and Gandalf were already making their way to the Ford of Rivendell. As they rode Gandalf relayed to Morgiel much of what she was to do when they reached Rivendell. She was to learn to fight with a sword and to use a bow and arrows as the elves do. She was to learn of her people and her enemy, and she would study maps of all Middle Earth. Gandalf had told her that Túrthalion had retreated to Mordor, once the land of Sauron's reign. Now it was a deserted, barren wasteland of broken and burned towers and walls. Nothing living was accounted for there, but the Rangers of the South heard rumors of a man headed toward Mordor by way of Osgiliath.

They reached the Ford of Rivendell one day earlier than they expected. The River Loudwater was very high and the currents were fast. They stopped to assess their situation. Morgiel did not know how they would cross such a high river; it looked extremely dangerous. '_I haven't even started my quest and here is the first danger,_' she thought. '_Oh, I hope Gandalf knows what to do._' She reined in her horse, which was becoming nervous of the noisy water. She looked at Gandalf, who was surveying the water intently.

"Gandalf, what shall we do?" Morgiel shouted over the noise of the water. "The water is higher than I thought it would be. Isn't there any way to cross?"

"Yes, my lady, there is. Do not worry, we shall be able to cross shortly." Now he dismounted off of Shadowfax and walked to the edge of the rushing river. He raised his staff over his head and opened his mouth. _"Hlarquettanya taura sírë: á hostalya altar neni, ar á metyalya rimbë falmar tenna me oantië!" _

Gandalf's thundering voice split the air as Morgiel watched in amazement as the rushing water receded and became as calm as a summer stream. Gandalf mounted his horse and proceeded to cross the Ford. Morgiel followed, absolutely astonished. The water flowed gently under them as they crossed the Ford. When they reached the high bank on the other side Morgiel turned back to watch the water. A wall of water came rushing down the River Loudwater as the spell was broken. It looked as if no one had come across the River at all. Morgiel turned back to Gandalf, who was riding into the woods of Rivendell.

"Gandalf, how did you do that?" Morgiel urged her horse on to follow Gandalf as he made his way through the wood.

"Do what, my dear?"

"The water; it slowed down when you finished speaking in that strange language. What did you say?"

Gandalf slowed Shadowfax until Morgiel's horse was abreast with him. He smiled. "I told the water to stop for us. And the language I spoke in was the language of your people. It is the High-elven speech, called Quenya; now it is only used in songs and grand ceremonies. It was the first language of the elves, when they lived in the Undying Lands. Not many remember it now, though."

Morgiel still could hear the words ringing in her ears. She could not understand them, but they seemed a familiar thing to her. She rode on in silence for a few minutes, then turned to Gandalf. "They are beautiful words. I would like to learn that language, particularly because it was the language of my people."

"Well," Gandalf replied, "I think you shall come to understand many things of that nature as the spell cast over you wears off." He turned Shadowfax to the left and stopped. "Here we are: the House of Elrond."

As Morgiel came around the bend she saw an amazing sight. A stone bridge led to the most beautiful house she had ever seen. It was surrounded by tall trees and waterfalls that cascaded from the mountain-side upon which the house was built. The sun was setting and Morgiel could see soft light that came from many inviting windows. She felt as if she had always been in that wood, and that she was just coming home from a day in the woods. All her worries fell away, forgotten. She was taking all the beauty in when a small group of people began to approach her and Gandalf from the courtyard of the House. She followed Gandalf as he rode over the bridge to meet them.

Morgiel now saw that the group had stopped and was waiting for them at the entrance of the House. When they reached the courtyard she and Gandalf dismounted and walked over to the people. one of them stepped forward to greet them.

"Mae govannen, Mithrandir. Welcome to Imladris, my lady. We have been expecting you. Come with me; a room has been prepared for you." He turned and Morgiel followed after him. He was tall, and was clothed in dark robes. He had long, dark hair, and piercing grey eyes. His face was serious yet ageless and wise. He did not speak as they entered the House, but when they were inside he turned to her. "Lothariel will show you to your room," here he summoned and elf-woman with golden hair. "When you are ready you may come to the Council Room; I will be there with Gandalf." He turned and walked with Gandalf down the left corridor. Lothariel bowed to Morgiel. "It is a great honour to have you here, my lady. It is a wondrous thing to have one of the High-elves staying here in Rivendell," she led the way down the right corridor and soon stopped at a door. "Here is your room, my lady. New clothes have been prepared for you and water has been drawn for your bath. The Council Room is down at the end of the left corridor. If you need anything please tell me." She bowed again and left.

Morgiel looked around her new room. It was big and bright, for there were many windows. Her bed was also bigger than any she had seen, and soft pillows and blankets were piled high upon it. She noticed that clothes had been laid out for her to wear. She walked over to the bed. It was the most beautiful dress she had ever seen. It was a pale green, and made of the softest fabric she had ever felt. It was light and delicate; nothing like her old woolen dress. She picked it up and held it against her body. It looked as if it was made just for her. She laid it back down on the bed and went over to the washroom. It was also bigger than she had ever seen. She decided that she would like staying in Rivendell.

"So this is the one whom the seer told about? She does not look much like us, Mithrandir." Elrond was sitting with Gandalf in the Council Room. He had a concerned look on his face as they talked about the lady Gandalf had brought to him. Gandalf set his glass down.

"Elrond, you know it is she. Túrthalion cast a spell over her so that no one would know her as an elf. She has just been informed of her true blood, so she is still insecure of her conduct around her people. But she is the one. I know you were hesitant to agree to such a task, but it is very important not only for the other peoples of Middle Earth, but for you and yours as well."

"I am leaving this place soon, Gandalf. You know that as well as I do. What does the fate of Middle Earth have to do with me now? I have already witnessed the one doom of my family take place; I want no more."

Gandalf leaned over to Elrond and looked him in the eyes. "Lord, you are still a part of this place. What will become of Imladris and the ones who stay for a while longer? What of your sons? They are not passing with you yet. I would not leave this place without seeing this matter set straight. You must at least set her on the beginning path to her quest. The lady needs instruction on what to do. She is hindered by this burden of a spell. It will not fully pass until her enemy is destroyed. With your help we can ease her burden and it will begin to fade. Please take note of my request and answer with favor. And you must remember, help from another is coming soon."

Elrond stood up and walked over to the window. "Yes, he shall be here in three months. Until then, my people will assist the lady in all she needs to know," he turned to Gandalf. "What does she know of her plight?"

"She knows what she must do. I have told her of her past and who she really is. She must know how to protect herself, and she must learn the ways of her people. I have already spoken to your sons; they have agreed to teach Morgiel how to fight with a sword and shoot with a bow. I presume that Lothariel and other women of your household will instruct her in other ways of being an elf-woman. And I ask you to show her the maps she will need to know; when he arrives they must plan the best and quickest course to take to Mordor. I do not think any of this will take much time, for Morgiel is a swift learner. She is eager to learn all she must know."

"I hope you are right, Mithrandir. For this is almost as significant as the quest of the Halflings was." Elrond turned to Gandalf. "She will stay here until the winter months have passed, for I could not let her start in such weather. She will be well cared for here, I can assure you."

At that moment Morgiel timidly entered the room. Gandalf beckoned her over to where they were. "Come, my dear. You needn't be afraid of us."

Morgiel stepped into the light. She was wearing the dress laid out for her. It fit her perfectly. She was girt with a belt of mithril, and a silver-grey mantle was around her shoulders. Her long, deep red tresses were cascading down her back, and she had small red and silver flowers in her hair. She looked the image of an elf-maiden most fair; a light was shining in her eyes like never before. Gandalf took her hand and led her over to Elrond.

"Do you not see the changes already? She has a strong will, lord. She will overcome this yet."

Elrond smiled for the first time. "My lady," he said to Morgiel, "I am honoured to receive such a guest as you. I trust that my people will treat you with the respect you deserve and that your stay here will be enjoyable. My sons have agreed to teach you all you must know to protect yourself on your journey, and myself and others will help you in anything you might need or know. Tomorrow I will show you maps of Middle Earth and the places you will need to know. I have thought it best for you to start your journey once winter has passed; and in three months the one who will accompany you on this quest will arrive here. He shall also be of help to you, I think." He led the way to the door. "Come, let us dine together and look forward to the coming of peace!"

The next day, Morgiel rose early. She was going to start her training today. She was excited, for Elladan was going to teach her to fight with a sword. She put on light brown leggings and a muted green tunic with a long-sleeved shirt underneath. Around her waist she strapped her old leather belt and her dagger. It was still cloudy and rather cold so she put on a grey cloak that had also been laid out for her. It clasped around her throat with a leaf-shaped pin. Arien's necklace she also wore, and as she fingered it she felt as if she was truly one of her kind. She left her room in high spirits.

When she reached the yard where she would receive her sword-fighting lessons she saw that Elladan was already there. He had with him two swords; one for him and one for her. As she walked over to him he bowed.

"Mae govannen, my lady. How are you faring this morning?"

"Quite well, thank you. You are Elladan?"

He nodded. "Yes; and you are the Lady Morgiel Carnimírië?

Morgiel smiled. "I am still becoming accustomed to being called "lady", but yes, I am she."

Elladan picked up one of the swords and handed it to Morgiel. He showed her how to strap the scabbard to her belt. He pulled out his sword and she pulled out hers.

"Shall we commence this first lesson?" he said with a smile as he held out his sword.

Morgiel held out her sword to meet his. "Let us begin."

Morgiel's lessons continued for countless days. She learned quickly, and amazed both Elladan and Elrohir at her skills with the sword and bow. Her mind became sharper and more perceptive as the days went by, and every day Elrond was astounded by the changes in her. She soon came to know all his maps by heart, and even discussed her journey's course with him. She came to be loved by all in Elrond's house, and she felt as if she had lived there all her life.

Three months passed by, and the day of her help arrived. No one in Elrond's house had said who it was, and Morgiel was anxious to find out. She awoke many times in the night, for she knew that this meant her task would soon be at hand. She awoke the next morning to dark clouds and cold air. She jumped out of bed and wrapped herself in her cloak. She put on a gown of dark green and her belt of mithril. She also put on her warm mantle of grey and silver. She brushed through her hair and braided it to keep it out of her face. She picked some of the small red and silver flowers that grew outside her window and put them in her hair. She clasped Arien's necklace around her neck and headed to the door. She stopped for a moment and put her hand to her heart. It was beating fast. She had never been so nervous in her life. She drew in a deep breath and thought of all that had transpired over the last few months. '_I _still _cannot believe all that is happening to me,_' she thought. '_I hope this person is kind and understanding, like Gandalf._' She left her room and headed to the courtyard to greet the mysterious visitor.

Morgiel arrived at the courtyard and found that Elrond, his sons, and some other elves were gathered there. She walked over to where Elrond was standing and turned to face the gate. A tall elf armed with a long bow stepped up to the gate and opened it.

"Lord Legolas of Ithilien!"

An elf rode in on a beautiful bay horse. He rode up to the group and dismounted gracefully. He was tall and dressed in muted browns and greens. He had a long bow and two daggers strapped to his back. He also had a quiver-full of feathered arrows. He did not look like a lord to Morgiel.

He bowed low to Elrond and Morgiel. When he raised his head he looked straight into Morgiel's eyes. She let slip a small gasp, but no one seemed to notice. She looked at him in shy wonder. He had long golden hair and grey-blue eyes that Morgiel thought could see the farthest reaches of her heart. He was handsome yet unassuming in manner, and Morgiel could see that there was more than a wood-elf lord in his face. Here was one who had seen the ages of the world but had not worn them as a heavy burden. She was eager to become acquainted with him, for she felt that he would understand her somehow.

"It is an honour to meet you, my lady."

Morgiel suddenly realized that Legolas was speaking to her. He was standing directly in front of her, and had called her "lady", like everyone else had been. But, for some reason, it seemed different when he called her "lady"; she looked up at him and smiled. "It is an honour to meet you, my lord."

The whole company now headed back to the House. Elrond was relaying to Legolas certain matters of the quest that pertained to him, and Legolas was listening quietly. They reached the Council Room and all but Morgiel, Gandalf, Legolas, and Elrond left. They entered the Room and Elrond sat down. He beckoned Morgiel to sit next to him, but the others stayed standing. He turned to them.

"You all know why we are here. The time has come for the prophecy concerning the fate of Middle Earth to be fulfilled. Lady Morgiel is the one foretold to accomplish this task of ridding Middle Earth of evil. Lord Legolas, you have chosen to accompany the lady on her journey to Mordor to defeat the former lieutenant of Sauron, Túrthalion, thus fulfilling the prophecy and removing the spell from the lady herself. You will start your journey in two month's time, for it shall be easier to travel in the Spring. Legolas and Morgiel, with my help, shall plan the course of travel to Mordor. I believe that you, Gandalf, shall be leaving us soon?"

"Yes, I shall. I have business to take care of in Gondor; the King has sent word to me of pressing importance."

Morgiel looked at Gandalf. He suddenly seemed very serious. She wondered what was so important in the East. She was disappointed that he would not be able to see her on her way, but she understood that he must go.

"When shall you be leaving, Gandalf?" she asked. "Shall I see you again?"

"I do not think so, my dear. I shall be leaving Rivendell tomorrow morning, and I do not know how long I shall be detained. Do not worry, I shall be thinking of always." He smiled down at her and she felt reassured.

Now Elrond stood up. "We shall begin planning the journey to Mordor tomorrow. For now, I shall let the Lady Morgiel and Lord Legolas become acquainted." He turned to Gandalf. "Shall we go, Mithrandir? I must hear of this news from Gondor." They left the Council Room, and Morgiel and Legolas were left alone together.

Morgiel looked at Legolas. She found that he was looking at her intently.

"Well," she said. "I feel rather out of place at the moment; I am not used to being in the presence of a lord." She smoothed her dress out and fingered her necklace nervously.

Legolas broke the silence. "That is a beautiful necklace you are wearing. It becomes you well, lady. And do not be nervous because of me; I am just a hunter of the woods. I am no one great.

"Tell me," he continued, "are you from the ancient realm of Eregion? I heard that you lived there long ago before it was destroyed. Do you remember it?"

"No, I do not," Morgiel replied. "I was taken from that place when I was an infant. It was then that it was destroyed. The reason I was taken is the reason I must travel to Mordor; for my kidnapper is there now." She stood up and went to the window. It was overcast; a sense of doom suddenly came over her. She turned back to Legolas. "My lord, why do you choose to help me? You do not know me, and I do not see how such a thing would matter to you."

Legolas walked over to her. He looked her in the eyes. "I have seen many evil things come to pass, my lady. I have had the honour of fighting against such evils. Now I choose to do the same with you. I do not want to see any evil thing come to power again, and I will help you fight it even unto the death. It is an honour to journey and fight with you, my lady. We have these two months to get to know each other; it is not very often I meet a lady of your nobility and blood.

"If there is any way that I might help you further your learning of anything, please tell me. I want to help in any way I can."

Morgiel was overcome with his kindness. She looked up at him and smiled. "Thank you, my lord. Come, let us go to the Porch and I will tell you all that I know of myself, and you can tell me of yourself. I think that we shall become friends yet."

They left the Council Room and headed towards the Porch, talking about many things. Even though they were ready to begin their journey, nothing could prepare them for the events along the way that would change their lives and the fate of Middle Earth.

_REVIEWS, PLEASE? I WOULD LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK SO FAR._


	4. Chapter 4

_AN: Again, this all belongs to Tolkien (SOB). PLEASE R&R! I will love you all forever! (And as always, the next chapter will be posted next Monday)_

Chapter Four

It was the morning before Morgiel and Legolas would start their journey. They had decided to take a fairly straight course to Mordor, for they did not specifically know where in Mordor Túrthalion was hiding. They were spending the day preparing to leave Rivendell. Morgiel had almost exhausted herself with poring over the maps Elrond had, and was sure she could find her way to Mordor in her sleep. She was in her room packing her sack when she heard a knock on her door. She set her sack down, walked to the door, and opened it.

It was Lothariel. She bowed slightly and looked up at Morgiel. "My lady, you are to come to the Porch. Lord Elrond and Lord Legolas are there waiting for you." She had a smile on her face that looked as if she were trying to keep a secret. "You will come, lady?"

"Yes, Lothariel," she replied. "Please tell them I will come to the Porch shortly."

Lothariel left the room and Morgiel walked over to her wardrobe. She brought out a deep red and black dress. She wanted to wear something beautiful for one last time; for she knew she would not be wearing such things on her journey. She put the dress on. It fit perfectly. The bodice and the skirt were subtly designed and complimented Morgiel in all aspects. She clasped Arien's necklace around her throat and pulled her hair back from her face into delicate twists and braids. She picked the ever-growing _isilótë_ from outside her window and put a few of the flowers in her hair. She smoothed out her dress and left her room.

When Morgiel entered the Porch, Legolas and Elrond were talking. They did not notice her as she walked over to them. They turned when they heard her footsteps, and an audible gasp escaped from the lips of Legolas. He promptly stepped up to her and took her hand.

"My lady," he said softly; and kissed her hand.

Elrond smiled slightly and turned to Morgiel. "My lady, we have come to the last day of your residing here in Imladris. Now the time has come for you to put to practice all you have been taught. This is a great task ahead of you, and many dangers may await you. Legolas will aid you in all that he is able, but the confrontation with Túrthalion must be done by you alone.

"You know the way to Mordor and you have chosen your course well. As long as you stay on that course you should not have many difficulties. I have received word from the King in Gondor that evil has started to come close to the Eastern lands; Ithilien and Osgiliath have been assaulted twice by small bands of orcs and Easterlings. This is very terrible news to me, for at the end of the War of the Ring it was thought that no orc or evil being was left in those parts. The Black Gates and the towers of Durthang and Barad-dûr have been thrown down, as well as the other strongholds of Mordor. It is all but a ruinous wasteland now, but it seems that there is still some evil power left there, and that must be destroyed as well.

"You will not have any help from those in the East, for you must travel secretly once you are close to Mordor. When you reach Mordor, choose your path wisely, for no one knows yet where Túrthalion is hiding," he paused and looked at Morgiel. "My lady, do you have any questions?"

Morgiel looked at him, then at Legolas. She was prepared to take on all of Mordor if she had to. And she was confident that they would finish their quest in victory. She turned to Elrond, her head held high.

"I am ready, my lord. I do not have any questions; I understand what is to be done. I would start now, if need be."

Elrond smiled. He walked over to a small table and picked up a bundle that was sitting on the table. He came back over to Morgiel and Legolas.

"Lady Morgiel Carnimírië, this is for you." He held out the bundle and unwrapped it. A long sword in an ornately decorated scabbard was in his hands. Morgiel took out the sword and held it up to the light. The blade was bright and sharp, and elf-runes were engraved on the lower end. The hilt was long and leather-bound. Morgiel could hardly believe that this sword was for her. She took the scabbard and sheathed her sword. She turned to Elrond with a grateful look on her face. "Thank you, my lord. It is a wonderful gift and it will serve me well."

Elrond put his hand on her shoulder. "I hope that you will not have too much need of it, lady."

Now Legolas turned to Morgiel and smiled. "Come, my lady; for I too have something to give you."

They took leave of Elrond and walked to the other side of the Porch. A small room was at the eastern end and Legolas led Morgiel into it.

He produced a long bow and a quiver that was full of golden-feathered arrows. "These are also for you, lady. They will be of good use when a sword cannot. They are from my people in Lasgalen."

Morgiel took them and thanked Legolas. They left the Porch and Morgiel headed back to her room. Legolas walked her to her room then went back to his to finish preparing for the journey. When Morgiel reached her room she set her new weapons down next to her sack and bedroll. She walked over to the Westward window and looked out. She could see the sun coming through the tall trees, and it cast a translucent green light over the room. '_This is it,_' she thought. _Tomorrow will start the greatest adventure I have had yet. I hope that this will bring all the answers I have been searching for. I hope I can find what I have lost._'

That night Elrond held a feast in honour of Morgiel and Legolas. It was a grand feast, and all of Elrond's House was there. It was actually rather overwhelming for Morgiel, so as soon as she had finished eating she quietly excused her self and retreated to the Hall of Fire.

It was quiet there, for the Hall was empty. Morgiel walked over to where the roaring fire's light was playing with the shadows on the wall and sat down with her back against a tall pillar. She sat there silent, thinking about her life. She tried to remember what was before the Chetwood, but to no avail. She was exhausted from her day of preparing and soon drifted into deep thought.

Suddenly everything became bright around her. She knew she was not asleep, but she felt as if she were dreaming. From nowhere a green wood appeared in front of her, and she stood up. She walked to the eaves of the wood and saw a woman standing in front of her. The woman was dressed entirely in green and had golden hair. She had a sad look on her ageless face. She walked past Morgiel into the wood, but did not see her. Morgiel turned and followed the woman.

Presently they came upon a small cottage in the wood. The woman went inside and suddenly Morgiel was inside as well. A small child was sleeping on a bed in the corner of the cottage. The child had deep red hair and was clutching a little rag doll. Morgiel assumed that the woman was the child's mother, for the woman went over to her and smoothed her hair back from her sleeping face. As Morgiel came closer to the woman, she could see that the woman was wearing the same necklace as her. It was Arien, her grandmother. Morgiel was absolutely elated at what she was seeing. '_This must be something from my past! I wonder if I will discover anything important. I wonder _why_ I am having this dream. I do not remember Gandalf telling me anything of this sort._' Morgiel continued to watch as the dream unfolded.

Presently a tall, dark elf burst through the door of the cottage. Arien whirled around in surprise and exhaled a sigh of relief when she saw who it was.

"Fëambar, what are you doing here? You should be quieter, for Míriel is sleeping." She bent over her daughter, who had stirred, but with a gentle caress she did not wake.

Fëambar stepped closer to Arien. "My lady, your father has sent me to you;" he paused as Arien straightened and turned to him.

"Why has he sent you? Is something wrong?"

"Not necessarily, Arien, but your father desires to see you again. He wishes that you would return to your people. It would be better for you and the child than to stay here with that dwarf."

Arien stood tall and glared at Fëambar. "That "dwarf" is my husband. What gives you the right to intrude in my home? My father knows the choice I have made. He knew it long ago. So why has he suddenly changed his mind?"

Fëambar came even nearer Arien. "My lady, you know my feelings for you. You know how long I have looked upon you with desire. I wanted to marry you long before the dwarf even came to Sérenómë. I loved you then and I love you now. Come away with me. Your father has been considering the thought of making the journey over the mountains to the realm of Eregion. He feels it would be safer there for his people. He wants you to come with us. You can bring the child as well."

Arien stood there, silent. Morgiel wanted to tell her to stay, but she knew what had already happened. She continued to watch.

"My lady," Fëambar said softly as he pulled Arien close to him. She recoiled, but he held her fast.

"What are you doing?" she whispered. "Let me go at once." She tried again to free herself, but to no avail. Fëambar caressed her cheek and moved close to her face. Morgiel wanted to shout out but she found that she had no voice.

"You will come with me, Arien," he whispered. "I love you, and you will learn to love me. We do not even have to take the child with us—"

Arien slapped his face with her free hand. "How dare you! Let me GO!"

At that moment Orin entered the cottage. He quickly surveyed the situation and gripped his axe tightly.

"Unhand the lady, Master Elf!" he shouted. "That is my wife and you shall never touch her again unless you should want to meet my axe."

Fëambar let go of Arien and turned to Orin. He swiftly pulled out his sword and faced the dwarf. "You have no right to be with this woman. She should have been mine. You are not worthy to be called her husband or the father of the child who has been tainted with your blood. She will never be accepted because of this. You will regret the day you were born, Dwarf!" He stormed out of the cottage, and the dream began to fade.

Legolas entered the Hall of Fire. The feast was still continuing on the Dining Hall, and he could hear the sounds of all the elves talking and singing as they ate. He had noticed that Morgiel had left, and he felt troubled. He spotted her sitting against a tall pillar close to the fire and headed over to her. As he came closer he noticed that she was staring vacantly into the fire. She did not seem to hear him approach and did not look up when he knelt down next to her.

"My lady, are you well?" he asked. There was no response. Legolas gently touched her shoulder and repeated his question. Morgiel started as if out of deep thought and looked up at him with a frightened look on her face.

"My lord, what are you doing here? Is the feast finished yet?"

Legolas sat down next to her and looked at her carefully. She looked rather pale, though her eyes reflected the light like a green fire. He wondered what was wrong.

"Lady, are you well?" he repeated again. "I noticed that you had departed from the Dining Hall rather early, so I came to find you. In truth, I do not like great gatherings such as that either. I would rather be alone most of the time," he paused and looked into the fire. "But now I would know if you are well. Tell me, is everything all right?"

Morgiel drew her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. She looked into the fire again, trying to sort out all that she had seen in her dream. She continued to stare and Legolas thought she had gone into deep thought again.

Presently she spoke. "I had a dream, Legolas," she surprised herself at her use of his first name. "I dreamed about my grandmother. It was something that Gandalf had not told me. I do not know why I dreamed of it; I was not even asleep. That is something completely new to me, for I have not had dreams of that sort ever." Now she looked at him with question. "Perhaps you could explain this to me?"

Legolas turned to her. "I think you have experienced for the first time what all elves do to rest their minds or to perceive something that has been thought or said to them. You have had a waking-dream. All elves are able to slip into dreams whenever they wish. Perhaps your mind was filled with thoughts of your past, so you dreamed about it."

Morgiel considered what Legolas had said. It made sense to her, and she was pleased to find that her elvish qualities were coming back to her.

"His power is fading," she said quietly, as if to herself. "I can feel it."

Legolas did not know what to make of this. "My lady?" he questioned.

Morgiel looked back at him. He had a confused look on his face. She smiled. "Oh, it is Túrthalion. I have experienced something that he has tried to hold back from me through his spell. That means his power has faded even more." She stood up, and Legolas stood up with her.

"I have thought of a name for my sword," she said. "'_Cirúnya_'; it means "swift red flame"; I thought it fitting, for the runes speak of its being as swift as fire. That is another thing; I have had no trouble learning to speak or read the forgotten language of my people. I have learned to write it as well. These are all good signs to me that the spell is fading faster than I or Gandalf had expected."

Legolas smiled at her. He was glad to see her in good spirits and he was not so worried anymore. He walked with her out of the Hall of Fire to the door of her room where he took leave of her.

"Good, night, my lady. Tomorrow we start our journey, so rest well." He bowed slightly and waited for her to enter her room, and then he left.

Morgiel was suddenly very tired, and did not waste any time getting ready to sleep. Before she retired she made sure that everything was ready for tomorrow.

As she climbed into bed she recounted to herself the course she and Legolas would take to Mordor. It would be a difficult journey to take, but she was not daunted. '_This is the final day. Now there is no turning back. To victory or doom we shall go; and to which I do not know just yet._'

She drifted off to sleep thinking about her quest, and wondering what the outcome would be.

Morgiel and Legolas left the next morning before the sun came up. Master Elrond, his sons, and a small group of elves saw them off. They would be going on foot to maximize their secrecy, and even then it would be difficult to stay concealed once they crossed over the Misty Mountains, for they would follow The Old Road until the reached the eastern side of the Anduin River.

Elrond gave them his blessing and advised them to not stray to far from their course.

"I do not think you shall have many encounters with danger while you are west of the Anduin and nearer Eryn Lasgalen," he said. "But take care to watch for anything that might hinder you."

He turned to Legolas. "Take care of the lady, Legolas. The fate of this world depends on her."

Legolas bowed and said he would.

Now Elrond turned to Morgiel and took her hand. "Do not be weighed down by the burden of this quest. There will be hardships, but as long as you stay on your course and keep hope you will not be defeated."

Morgiel nodded, for she found that she could not say anything. She picked up her sack and slung it over her shoulders. She pulled her cloak close to her, for it was still cold.

She and Legolas now turned to depart from Rivendell. As they went out through the gate Elrond lifted his hands and spoke.

"May the blessings of the Elves and Elbereth, our lady of the stars, be with you."

The gate closed as they began down the path to The Old Road. Morgiel was silent and walked quickly while Legolas sang quietly to himself. When they were out of sight of Rivendell they stopped and turned to see the sun coming up over the horizon.

Legolas looked at Morgiel. The sun had lit up her hair and her eyes, and she looked almost like a Maia to him. He turned back to their road and they started up again.

"I never dreamed I would be travelling this very road again. It is all so familiar to me," Legolas smiled grimly with memory. "But we shall not be taking the road to Moria this time. That is a place I do not wish to see again."

"What was it like?" Morgiel asked. "Was it really that dreadful a place?"

"Yes, my lady. I would not wish my greatest enemies to go there, for it is a vast abyss of evil. I have been told that it was once a great dwarf-city that was alive with joy and light, but the dwarves awoke a Balrog, and it did much harm. I saw a black place of death and ruin; and not at all comforting to me. I would much rather be in a forest surrounded by trees as old as the earth itself."

Morgiel thought about the old willow tree that had been outside her cottage in the Chetwood. It had been the only comforting place for her in that time, but that was all a distant memory now. She smiled to herself as they continued to trek through the growing hills that were giving way to the Misty Mountains.

_REVIEWS? SUGGESTIONS? WOULD YOU RATHER RUN ME OUT OF TOWN? LET ME KNOW!_


	5. Chapter 5

_AN: Again, everything except for Morgiel and Túrthalion is owned by Tolkien. READ AND REVIEW, AND ALL YOUR DREAMS WILL COME TRUE!_

Chapter Five

"Look! The Dagorlad!"

Morgiel and Legolas had at last reached the end of the Brown Lands and were approaching the renowned Battle Plain. It was still a long way to Mordor, but Morgiel was in high spirits, for she knew that they were almost finished with their journey. They still had not encountered anybody in the 120 leagues or so they had travelled from Rivendell, but as always they were on guard for danger.

As they came out of the Brown Lands, Legolas pointed to the remaining plains they would cross to reach Mordor.

"It is now almost a straight course south from where we stand," he said. They continued to walk and Morgiel looked around her. The vast Battle Plain was sad and desolate. She could not think of a more dismal place, and she suddenly felt a cloud come over her heart.

"Why is it such a wasteland, Legolas?" she asked. "I know it is called the Battle Plain, but I did not have time to learn why it is called so."

Legolas stopped and spread his arms out. "This is where the Battle of the Last Alliance of Men and Elves was fought against Sauron at the end of the Second Age. It is a hallowed place now, but nothing grows here for the ruin that was caused in battle." He pointed south-west of where they stood. "Over in that direction are the Dead Marshes. It is also part of where the battle was fought. Frodo and Sam were led through those marshes by the creature Gollum in order to reach Mordor. I am glad we did not have to travel through such a place."

They resumed walking, again with little or no conversation. Morgiel felt as if an ominous spirit hung over the Plain, and she did not want to disturb it. A chill went through her and she shivered. She pulled her cloak close around her and felt her sword to make sure it was ready for sudden use. She looked over at Legolas and knew that he felt the same as she, for he too had his bow ready as before, and he frequently scanned the Plain.

Now as they headed further across Dagorlad the sun began to set, and they were soon covered by the darkness of night. The moon had begun to wan, but it still shone enough light for them to see by. They continued walking close together, and Morgiel felt tense with anticipation of what she did not know. She felt that the sameness of their journey would stifle her spirit, and she suddenly wanted to scream. Instead, she clenched her fists and walked faster. Soon she was ahead of Legolas, who sped up to catch her.

"Is something wrong, Morgiel?" Legolas asked. "What is your need to pass me?"

Morgiel sighed loudly and turned to face him. "I feel that if I did not change my pace I would scream. Nothing has happened, Legolas. I would _gladly_ welcome anything if it would end this monotony—"

_"Thwip!" _The sound and feeling of an arrow flew past Morgiel's ear. She whipped out an arrow and fitted it into her bow in almost less than a second. Legolas did the same and soon they were shooting arrow after arrow at an unseen enemy that kept sending thick, black arrows their way. They continued to shoot and ran forward until Morgiel spotted a small, dark group of something she had never seen.

"What are they, Legolas?"

_"Yrch!"_ he said, slipping into Elvish. "They must have been sent out from Mordor; but who bred them I do not know."

Morgiel tried to count how many orcs there were, but it was too dark to tell. She fitted another arrow into her bow and let it go just in time, for a tall, swarthy orc suddenly rushed at her with a yell. The golden-shafted arrow pierced his heart and he fell with a cry soon cut short.

Now the orcs began to close in around Morgiel and Legolas. As far as Morgiel could tell, there were already about twenty orcs that had fallen, but still more came. She slung her bow onto her shoulder and pulled out her sword. Legolas whipped out his long, twin daggers and they began to fight. Morgiel wove in and out of the battle, dealing blows left and right with whatever crossed her path. She felt a little scared, for this was the first actual test of her strength, but as she fought on her fear faded and she was secretly enjoying herself. She was thinking about this when a broad, mean-looking orc stepped in front of her. She did not even have time to think, for the orc charged her. She swung her sword around and lopped off the orc's head where he stood. She did not look back, and as she turned to check on Legolas, who was fighting splendidly, she almost ran into another massively built orc. She stepped back to gain her balance and with the same motion she drove her sword almost to the hilt into the orc's stomach. She pulled her sword out to deal the final blow, and the orc swept his sword around to meet Morgiel's neck. She took a step forward and ducked, but as she did the hilt of the orc's sword smashed into her forehead and searing pain shot through her head. Everything began to swim around her, and she staggered back a couple of steps. The huge orc leered over her, enjoying what he thought was victory. Suddenly Morgiel felt a fire leap up inside her and her head cleared. She rose up with a shout of "Elbereth!", and plunged her sword through the orc's heart. He started forward, and as the black blood gushed from his mouth he fell with a heavy thud.

Morgiel dizzily surveyed the scene around her. All the orcs were dead and lying around her and Legolas. He was standing a few feet from her, cleaning his daggers. Morgiel now felt the pain and blood streaming from her wound, and everything began to go grey. As she reeled forward the last thing she saw was Legolas running to catch her before she fell.

Everything was fallen into silence and darkness.

Morgiel faintly heard the sound of singing. She opened her eyes to find out where the voice was coming from, and was met with a bright light. She quickly closed them again, for a sharp pain shot through her head. Again she opened her eyes, but slowly so as not to receive more pain. This time the light was not so bright, and she now saw Legolas sitting over her, applying something cool to her forehead. She tried to sit up, but found that she could not without becoming faint. Legolas continued to doctor her wound, and greeted her when he saw that she was awake.

"Good morning, Morgiel. I am glad to see that you have finally come to. I was not sure when you would regain consciousness, for you have received a terrible blow to your head."

Morgiel slowly recalled everything that had happened. The last thing she remembered was killing the huge orc, and nothing else. She looked at Legolas, who had a concerned face.

"What do you mean?" she said. She looked around her. They were still on the Dagorlad, but there was no sign of the battle they had fought. She questioned Legolas again. "Where are the orcs from last night? Did any more come? Are you all right?"

Legolas gently helped her to sit up. "The battle was three nights ago, Morgiel. You have been unconscious since then, and I have carried you while I travelled, for I did not want to stay where the battle had been. You were fortunate to have moved so quickly, for if the orc had hit you an inch lower on your head it would have killed you instantly," he paused and looked into her eyes. "I was very worried; I was afraid you would not pull through."

Morgiel smiled faintly and reached her hand up to Legolas. "Will you help me to stand, Legolas? I am feeling better every minute, and I do not want to waste much time in travelling."

Legolas took her hand and helped her to her feet. She stood there for a moment, for she was rather unsteady. When she gained her ground she picked up her sack and slung it over her shoulder. She put her sword around her waist and strapped her quiver to her back along with her bow. She turned to Legolas and smiled defiantly. "Shall we start?"

He stepped in stride next to her and they continued to head towards Mordor. Legolas kept near Morgiel, for she was still a little unsteady on her feet, but she slowly became sure of herself. She could see the outline of the Ered Lithui in the distance, so she knew that their goal was not too far ahead.

As they travelled, Morgiel contemplated where the orcs could have come from. She remembered Elrond telling her that at the end of the War of the Ring and the following months the King in Gondor and his fellow Rangers in the South extinguished all the organised groups of orcs and the rest of the stragglers as well. She knew that the orcs they fought were from Mordor, for they came from that direction, but she did not know whether they ambushed her and Legolas or whether they were just out on a lengthy patrol. She and Legolas took turns comparing thoughts and ideas.

"I think perhaps they stumbled upon us by accident," said Morgiel. "They were not a very large group; I think I counted about twenty or thirty altogether. But what I want to know is why they were so far from Mordor, for we are still about twenty leagues or so from the Morannon."

Legolas shook his head. "That is exactly why I feel we were ambushed, for why else would they patrol this far from Mordor? I believe now we must be more careful than ever, Morgiel, for I sense that Túrthalion is now aware of our presence. His power may be fading, but he has still had the strength to breed and send these orcs after us. Be on your guard, my lady, for you will be the center of his attentions and hate."

Morgiel took in all that Legolas said, and she continued to ponder it as they walked. They hurried now, for they did not know what would lie ahead. Morgiel felt better, but she also felt a sense of clarity and perception of her mind more than she had ever before. She focused all her thoughts on what lay before them, and the Ered Lithui continued to loom greater before them as they travelled. As they travelled Morgiel remembered that they had not truly stopped to rest for a long time. She was amazed at the fact that she did not need to take sustenance often, as she did in the Chetwood. The waybread of the elves and a little water now and then was all she needed.

Suddenly Morgiel felt something she had never felt before. She could sense Túrthalion's presence and his thoughts. She now knew without a shadow of a doubt that he knew they were coming, and he was waiting for them. She felt him summoning the power and strength to defeat her, but she was not daunted. She strove to keep her mind clear and protected from the weight and stress of her task. She looked over at Legolas, and he appeared to be carefree in his manner. She knew that his mind was not on that plain, but perhaps somewhere in the forests of his people in another age. What she did not know was that he was keeping his mind guarded as much as she; and he was thinking of her all the while.

As they walked the sun climbed high into the sky. They did not stop to eat or rest, for they were too intent on their journey. They were so focused that they did not notice a mist that closed in around them in the late afternoon. Morgiel was the first to react when she suddenly could not see twenty feet in front of her.

"Legolas, what is this? Has he resorted to such measures as attempting to lose us in a fog?"

Legolas came close to Morgiel. He stood still and looked out into the haze. He was silent for a few minutes, then he turned to Morgiel. "His tricks will not work this time. I know that the Ered Lithui are directly south of us, so we will continue to head in a fairly straight course. The Morannon will not be hard to find once we reach the eaves of the mountains," he paused; the mist was thicker now. He grabbed Morgiel's hand. "We cannot not risk becoming lost, Morgiel. I know that your perception and sight is getting better as the spell fades, but there is still a chance one of us might lose the other, and I could not live with that."

Morgiel nodded, and they started again slowly. The fog swirled around them as they passed through it, but it did not let up. Every so often Morgiel thought she heard something or someone move close to them, but she could not see anything. The little light from the sun that came through was now leaving, for above the cloud She was setting. It was now dark and foggy, which slowed the two travellers even more. Soon they had to stop, for although they knew they were headed in the right direction, it was too dangerously uncertain to continue in the dark. Morgiel and Legolas decided to wait until the sun rose the next morning to start up again. They sat down on the plain, which was wet now from the fog, and waited. Neither slept, for they were tense with anticipation. Morgiel tried resting her mind in a dream of Rivendell, but she found she could not. She felt the weight of Túrthalion's thoughts bent solely on her, and she felt he was trying to unnerve her completely. She clenched her fists and tried to shut him out of her mind. She spent the whole night wrestling with his mind, and in the still-dark places of the morning she won. The fog suddenly lifted and the sunlight poured over the distant horizon. Legolas stood up and stretched his hands to the sky. He turned to Morgiel, who was still sitting on the ground.

"It appears that Túrthalion has given up for now, Morgiel. Come, let us go." He turned to face their destination, but halted when he noticed that Morgiel was slow in coming. He turned back toward her. She was standing, but Legolas noticed that she was suddenly very pale. He reached for her hand and took it into his own. He looked into her eyes and saw exhaustion.

"Morgiel, was is wrong? What has caused this weariness I see in you?"

Morgiel looked up at him. "He tried to attack my mind," she whispered. "It was all I could do to keep him out. This is going to be much harder, I fear. But that time is not come yet, for I have staved off his attacks for at least the remainder of this part of our journey. But now we must make haste, for I fear there is little time left."

The two travellers now sped across the plain. They travelled all day, and reached the eaves of the Ered Lithui by dusk. The plains near the mountain range were black and barren. The dust rose around Morgiel's feet as she and Legolas came upon the end of the plains. The ruins of the Black Gate loomed up before them. They had reached the Morannon.

The black ruins of the Morannon reached still to the immense heights of the Ered Lithui. Morgiel and Legolas were now standing before them surrounded by the choking dust and ash of the plain. They stood there in silence for what seemed an eternity before Morgiel realized that crossing the ruined Gate would be harder than she thought, for she had almost forgotten that the Black Gate had been thrown down.

"I suppose there is no other way into Mordor;" she said. "But this should be no harder a task than the ones we have already accomplished."

Legolas stepped up to the ruins and lightly jumped onto the closest pile of stone. He turned to Morgiel. "I suppose not," he replied. He reached down his hand to Morgiel and she took it. He helped her to the next heap of rock and they began to climb the ruins. Sure-footed elves as they were, they had a difficult time gaining ground and maintaining their pace, for the ruins were not solid. Many places that appeared stable were really rocks that were tentatively perched on top of the ruins and hid deep pockets of loose rubble and debris. Morgiel and Legolas lost their footing many times, so they were very careful and deliberate in choosing a foothold. Every step had to be tested thoroughly before taking it.

The sun was low and red in the western sky by the time the two travellers were about two-thirds of the way to the top of the Morannon. They stopped for a moment to survey their surroundings. Morgiel sat down in a large cracked piece of what used to be part of the Gate's parapet, and looked to the East.

"I do not like being here, where every eye in Mordor can see," she sighed. "I feel as if we are being watched."

"It is very likely that we are, Morgiel," Legolas said. "But we are not stopped yet."

Morgiel stood up. "And we shall continue until we are;" she paused and looked up into the sky. "It shall be night soon. We shall be slowed coming down this rubble."

Legolas nodded in agreement, and they began the climb over the top of the ruined gate. The waxing moon rose over them, but gave them barely enough light to see by. They were hindered by the instability of the ruins and the lack of proper light, but they were halfway to the bottom by the time the sky became light in the East.

As they trekked down the wreckage Morgiel was very quiet. She was beginning to feel weary again, so she attempted to rest her mind in her elvish dreams. Suddenly she felt a great power force its way into her mind. She staggered underneath its weight and almost fell down. Legolas caught her arm and held her steady. He looked into her face and found that it was very pallid.

"My lady, what is this new affliction? For you are paler than the winter frost."

Morgiel passed her hand over her eyes. She looked up into Legolas' eyes and suddenly felt that if she let go of him she would surely fall to her death. She opened her mouth to speak and found that no words would come. She struggled and finally spoke. "He is trying my mind again," she whispered faintly. "He is putting forth all the power he has left in him against me." She clutched Legolas' arm tighter. "I heard his voice inside my mind. He told me that I have no power against him, and that he would defeat me for the last time in body and mind.

"All our devices are now laid bare to him, Legolas. He is only waiting for us to reach him now. He is in the tower of Durthang." She pointed southwest of where they were.

"Then we shall meet him," Legolas said quietly. Still supporting Morgiel, he started forward. Morgiel allowed him to lead her as they made their way down the ruined gate into Mordor.

The sun rose bright over all the lands in Middle Earth except Mordor. The forever-accursed place of the greatest evils was a barren wasteland. Nothing grew there, and the land was covered in ashen dust. What light came through was paled by the desolation of it all. The wind whistled low and stirred up eddies of dust that would eventually die away into nothingness.

Now the two elves stood in that place; the emptiness surrounding them like a hollow cloud of poison. Even Legolas could feel the evil pressing down upon his spirit, and Morgiel was now oppressed to the fullest. She slowly turned to the south, where the dusty outline of Durthang stood crumbling at the feet of the Ephel Duath.

They were in the realm of Udûn, just before the Isenmouthe, which led to the tower of Barad-dûr. As the two travellers walked towards the western Mountains of Shadow they came upon a great road that headed towards Durthang. They reached it and began walking its great lengths. As they walked Morgiel noticed traces of recent repair to the stones of the road, and she loosened her sword in its scabbard. She knew now that there was no turning back, for it seemed as if the way had been paved solely for them. She could almost feel Túrthalion beckoning them to enter what was left of his fortress and face him. She did not feel so weary now, and she marvelled at that. She looked back at Legolas, who was following warily. He had his bow strung and ready to shoot at any moment, but she somehow knew that no one would harm them as they made their way to Durthang.

Now the tower loomed in front of them. There was a great black door at the top of a wide staircase. No one was guarding the door; in fact, there was not one living thing to be seen anywhere beside the two elves. The air hung with an strange stillness that closed in around them as Morgiel slowly walked up to the first step. She took two more steps then turned to Legolas.

"This is it, Legolas," she said grimly. "Yet somehow, I do not feel the gloom that is all around us. Perhaps he does not have the power he led us to believe."

Legolas was quickly at her side. He had a very serious look on his face; more serious than Morgiel had ever seen in him. He started up the remainder of the staircase and Morgiel followed him.

"I would not doubt Túrthalion's power now, Morgiel. He is not defeated yet." With that he and Morgiel quickly reached the great door of Durthang. It was massive and foreboding in appearance to Morgiel, and she shivered in spite of herself. She now stood directly in front of it with Cirúnya in her hand, ready for anything. Legolas was just behind her with his long bow and a golden-shafted arrow, poised for action. They stood there for a moment; an unnatural silence filled the air.

Morgiel stepped up to the door and pushed. She and Legolas had to lean heavily on the door before it loudly creaked open. They entered the tower, and the door closed behind them with an echoing boom. They were now in a large corridor. It had high vaulted ceilings, and every few feet a torch was dimly burning from its post on the wall. The corridor led to another long staircase; to which Morgiel and Legolas now headed.

The two elves carefully walked up the stairs. The staircase wound up to the left, and the torches burned so low now that it was hard to see what was around the next bend. The deep red fire cast long shadows on the stone walls, and as the elves went on their shadows danced eerily behind them.

Suddenly from somewhere in the heights of the tower a harsh cry echoed down to the two travellers. Morgiel quickly halted, and Legolas pointed his bow towards the top of the stairs. They kept still and quiet, but nothing more came. Legolas now took the lead and motioned to Morgiel to keep silent and ready. She gripped her sword, and as she looked down at it she thought she saw a red flame creeping along the edge of her sword. She blinked and looked at her sword again, but the flame was gone. She thought no more of it and kept close behind Legolas. The top of the stairs could be seen now, and the faint outline of a door came into view. A red light shone from underneath the door, and every so often Morgiel could see a shadow pass by from the other side. She and Legolas now stopped at the door and checked their weapons. Legolas fitted an arrow into his bow and Morgiel held her sword ready. Now Legolas turned to her.

"There is something, or someone on the other side of this door," he whispered. Another cry came from just beyond the door and Morgiel held her breath. When all was silent again Legolas continued. "We must stay together at all costs. I do not think we have reached Túrthalion yet, for those sounds are too harsh. Are you ready, my lady?"

Morgiel nodded. She put her hand on Legolas' shoulder. "Please, Legolas; call me Morgiel."

He smiled and reached for the doorknob. He flung open the door and in one swift motion they stepped out together into the next corridor. There were three broad orcs at the end of the corridor, and they were arguing. They did not notice the elves until the tallest one fell to the ground with a long arrow of the Greenwood in his heart. The other orcs turned to face their assailants, but were quickly stopped by Cirúnya. One orc fell without his head and the other with a pierced heart.

This only took a few seconds for the elves, and they reached the end of the corridor without even a scratch. They stopped so Morgiel could clean her sword, and then they headed for the next door. No sound came form the other side, so Legolas pushed it open. It led to another short corridor with another staircase at the end. This corridor was completely dark, for no torches lit the way. Morgiel took a torch from the wall of the last passageway and they started forward. Their steps echoed as they walked, but no other sounds came from anywhere. When they reached the next flight of steps Morgiel halted. She turned to Legolas and pointed upward.

"He is in there," she whispered quietly. "This is the last leg of our journey."

"We shall meet him together, then," Legolas replied. He began to go up the steps, but Morgiel stopped him with her hand on his chest. "No, Legolas. I need to do this alone. I have prepared a long time for this moment, and it is something that only I can do.

"I am not ungrateful of your help; indeed, I could never have come this far if not for you. But I cannot risk anything happening to you because of me this time. So I ask that you wait for me here, please. I do not fear him, Legolas. He will be destroyed."

Legolas looked into Morgiel's eyes, then took her hand. "Morgiel, I will honour your request, but only because I know that you are strong enough to handle this task. In truth, my heart is torn in two by this, for I would not see you harmed in any way. I have grown to care for you even to the point of my death, if it would save you;" here he bowed and gently kissed her hand. He looked back up into her eyes, and suddenly Morgiel felt her heart jump inside her.

"Now go," he said quietly. "I will be waiting for you."

Morgiel turned and slowly headed up the stairs. Her mind was filled with thoughts of her journey, but it was also strangely calm. She thought of the way Legolas had looked at her. She knew what she saw in his eyes, though no one had ever felt that way about her before. As she reached the top of the stairs and approached the door, she suddenly felt a rush of feelings to her whole spirit. '_I love him,_' she thought. She touched the necklace around her throat and stood tall. She held Cirúnya high and stepped up to the door. She pushed it open and stepped through.

"You have finally come," said a tired, yet powerful voice. "Now your doom is at hand."

_DID YOU LIKE IT? PLEASE LET ME KNOW. I GLADLY ACCEPT CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM._


	6. Chapter 6

_AN: Again, I only own Morgiel, her sword, Túrthalion, and any other characters that seem unfamiliar; **everything else** is Tolkien's. Enjoy this next chapter and REVIEW!_

Chapter Six

A low laugh issued from the shadowy depths of the room Morgiel had just entered. The laugh stopped her in her tracks and her sword suddenly felt as heavy as lead. Her mind wavered for a moment, but that same fire as before rose up inside her. She gripped her sword and took a step forward.

"You will not take me again, Túrthalion," she said in a raised voice. "I have come for one purpose: to destroy you and regain what is mine, but I am sure you already knew of this."

Morgiel took another step forward. Cirúnya now blazed in her hand, but Túrthalion was still hidden in shadow. "Victory will be mine," she said lowly. She stood where she was, waiting for a response.

Suddenly a grey figure emerged from the shadows. Morgiel gasped as she came to realise that it was Túrthalion. He was aged almost beyond recognition. His once black hair and beard were now shockingly white, and his skin was almost translucent. He wore a dirty grey robe and hooded cloak, but he also brandished a long, gleaming sword. As he came out of the shadows he straightened up to his full height and took a step towards Morgiel. She marked that the only thing that had not changed about him was his eyes. They were still black and hard, now glittering with evil hatred for the one standing before him. He laughed again, and Morgiel braced herself with anticipation.

"Do you really think you will destroy _me_, child?" Túrthalion sneered at Morgiel. "For that is all you are, and all you ever shall be. Where did you get such grand ideas of being an elf of nobility, and a _warrior_ much less? You are weak, and you shall never rise above the shadows from whence you came, _Daewen!_"

Morgiel faced her enemy, trembling. She fought to keep her mind clear and focused. Túrthalion's words were meant to cloud her thoughts and enforce the spell he still held over her. In the far reaches of her mind she knew this, and she combated it with her own words and thoughts.

'_You have no power over me_' she thought. She knew Túrthalion could hear her, for he flinched ever so slightly. She took one more step forward. "You shall never have power over me again!" she said aloud.

At that, Túrthalion suddenly lunged forward with his sword. Morgiel raised Cirúnya and stepped forward to meet his blade. A clash of metal sounded loudly, and a flash of fire came forth from Morgiel's sword. Túrthalion spun around her left side and lunged forward again. Without turning around, Morgiel brought her sword down to her left and blocked Túrthalion's blow. As he recoiled she spun around to the right and brought Cirúnya to meet again with his sword. Again Túrthalion recoiled and they both halted, staring at each other. The silence and stillness continued for what seemed an eternity, then came the call of doom.

Legolas paced back and forth at the foot of the stairway. He knew Morgiel was capable of handling herself, and he knew this was her task. But something else inside him pulled at his heart. He did not know when he began to feel this way. The beautiful lost elf with red hair and dwarvish blood had intrigued him from the start, but he had regarded her as just that and nothing more. He had come to help because Gandalf had asked him and because her story intrigued him; '_But now_,' he thought. '_Now it is different. I care for her too much to let her alone. But does she know how I feel?_'

His thoughts were shattered by a cry.

"Morgiel!" Legolas shouted. He dashed up the stairs and burst through the door. He was met with a terrible scene.

Morgiel was kneeling on the floor, clutching her left shoulder; her sword slack in her hand. Túrthalion was standing over her with his sword raised high over his head. The torches on the wall were blazing and tinged everything with red. Túrthalion did not notice Legolas, for he was too intent upon destroying Morgiel. Now he began to bring his sword down, intending to strike her where she was. But suddenly, as the fire raged on and time seemed to stand still, Morgiel leaped up and Cirúnya blazed. Túrthalion's sword shattered in a blinding flash of light as Morgiel met him in battle for the last time. She plunged her sword into his heart, and her enemy of four thousand years fell. As Morgiel stood over his body it seemed to age rapidly, then decay into dust.

The two elves stood where they were, and again time seemed absent. Then suddenly Morgiel moaned, and her sword clattered to the ground as time began again. Her knees buckled and Legolas dashed to catch her. He brought her down slowly. she faintly smiled up at him. "I-it seems—that you are always having—to catch me," she said falteringly. She tried to push herself up, but winced and fell back as she realised that she was wounded. She touched her hand to Legolas' cheek and sighed. "It is over. We have won."

With that, Morgiel closed her eyes and fell limp in Legolas' arms. He stared at her for a moment, and a tear slipped unknowingly down his cheek. Fearing her to be dead he pulled her close to his chest and gently cradled her in his arms.

The world was silent around the two still figures. Legolas sat where Morgiel had fallen, still holding her close. Suddenly footsteps and harsh cries sounded close to the tower room. Legolas looked up. He quickly cleaned Morgiel's sword and returned it to its scabbard. He gently picked up Morgiel, took a deep breath, and burst through the door. To his surprise, there was no one to be seen. Light flickered at the foot of the stairway as the shadows danced now and then. Legolas quickly but carefully hurried down the steps and into the passageway. There were two orcs in the corridor, but when they saw Legolas they turned and ran the other way. He was surprised by this, but took little heed of it. Here he stopped and knelt down. He looked at Morgiel, who was paler than death. Her lips were tinged with blue, as well as the deep wound in her left shoulder. There was little blood, and Legolas bound the wound as best he could, then picked her up again. Now he continued through each hallway, retracing the earlier trek until he reached the Door of Durthang.

All the way back through the tower Legolas did not meet any orcs after the first two, but he could hear their vulgar calls from every direction. Now he was outside, where the sickle moon had risen in reply to the cries of doom in that place. But this time Legolas did not go back the way they had come. Instead he turned toward Ithilien and the West. As he came round the left side of Durthang he found a sort of pass roughly cut through the rock of the Ephel Duath. This route he took, swiftly but cautiously as he still carried the limp form of Morgiel. He did not want to arouse any more attention, so he could not take the time to care for Morgiel properly. There were still no encounters with the orcs he heard but did not see. He looked back one last time at the tower and saw in the furthest window a number of orcs grouping together. They were armed and carried torches. They did not notice the small figure of Legolas escaping down the mountainside, and he was able to safely get away.

Legolas travelled with Morgiel in his arms all throughout the night, for he wanted to reach Ithilien as quickly as possible. As he neared the eaves of the Ephel Duath the air began to clear and was not as foul. He felt his strength renewed as he breathed the fresh air that emanated from Ithilien, and now he travelled with a lighter heart.

Sunrise found Legolas at the Great Harad Road that lead to the entrance of Mordor. Now it was unkempt and decaying, for no one travelled by it anymore, and the elves that lived in Ithilien never came that close to Mordor. Legolas quickly crossed the road and headed towards the eaves of Ithilien.

Soon Legolas was well within the borders of North Ithilien. The sun was shining high and green through the leafy oak and ash-trees, and the ground felt cool under his tireless feet. Now he halted to check on Morgiel again. Her condition had not changed, and when Legolas put his ear close to her lips he could barely hear her breathe. He took her hand into his and found it to be as cold as ice. Her forehead was cold as well, and her skin had a sickly bluish shade to it. Legolas took his cloak off, wrapped Morgiel in it, and picked her up again. He now set off almost due-west towards Anduin, the Great River.

By the time the sun began to set Legolas was about five leagues into Ithilien, but he had yet to see any sign of his people. he stopped near an ancient oak and tenderly laid the unconscious form of Morgiel beneath its great leafy boughs. He lit a small fire, took a little food and water, then sat down close to Morgiel.

All through the night Legolas did not sleep. He kept near Morgiel, who was still unconscious. He checked her wound again, which had stopped bleeding. It was a deep sword wound that Legolas knew had been intended for her heart. He also knew that she had in fact not lost much blood. '_So why does my heart sense this shadow about yours, Morgiel?_' he thought. He touched her cheek softly, then gently brushed her hair back from her face. She was still very cold, and now he could not tell if she was still breathing. He took her cold, slender hand to feel for her pulse; it was barely there. Legolas drew Morgiel into his arms and held her close, attempting to keep her warm. The spring air of the wood was cool, and a night breeze rustled through the trees. Legolas listened to the wind in the trees, but they did not seem to be awake anymore. Suddenly he heard a low bird-call, which was strange for that time of night. He turned toward the sound and thought he caught a glimpse of a shadowy figure flitting through the trees. He kicked dirt onto the fire and sat still in the darkness. Silence ensued and he did not hear anything more but the wind and trees.

As he sat there in the darkness holding Morgiel and still trying to understand what caused her ailment, she stirred. He expectantly looked down at her, but she did not wake. Suddenly it seemed to him that a mist appeared between them, and with horror he realised that she had been wounded by an enchanted blade. The shadow of Túrthalion was still upon her, and she was dying. Upon realising this he laid Morgiel back down underneath the oak and gathered his things. He covered the small fire then carefully picked up Morgiel. '_I must get her to my people,_' he thought as he headed deeper into the woods of Ithilien. '_It is the only way she can be saved now._'

It was at least two more days until he would reach the outskirts of the elvish dwellings in Ithilien, for they dwelt nearer to the Anduin and the island of Cair Andros. It would be slow going because of Morgiel's illness, but Legolas travelled as fast as he was able, for he did not want to lose her to the shadow that still lingered.

The moon was now setting and the eastern sky was becoming light as Legolas began to ascend from the deep valley that led from the Harad Road. The tress were closer together, and there were flowers everywhere. On any other day Legolas would have taken his time in travel, for he loved the forest and all things growing there. But now he barely noticed the beautiful effects of the late spring as he sped through the wooded glades of Ithilien. Morgiel was still comatose, but now her breathing was becoming ragged and labored. Legolas still did not encounter any of his people, and only stopped once to drink from a stream that flowed nearby.

The sun was setting on the second day of the return journey from Mordor. Legolas knew now that he would reach the dwellings of his people by dawn. He stopped again so he could check on Morgiel and rest a little himself. He found a small grass-covered clearing that was surrounded by oak trees. He laid Morgiel down and made a fire. He knelt down next to Morgiel and took her hands into his.

"You are stronger than this shadow," he whispered. "I know that hope lingers still in you. I have seen the strength you possess, my lady. I have seen the hope in your eyes. I do not know what I would do without you. I love you, my _Estelwen._"

At that moment, many things happened at once. Legolas was bent over Morgiel, who suddenly opened her eyes and said faintly, "Legolas? I-I thought everything had fallen into darkness. W-what is wrong?"

But he never had the chance to answer her, for just as she spoke the wood was filled with loud, callous cries and flying arrows. Legolas quickly looked up and saw a large group of orcs crashing through the trees from the East. He jumped up and stood in front of Morgiel. He whipped out his long bow and began shooting arrows as fast as he could towards the oncoming orcs. Many of them fell, but there were too many for him alone to handle. Suddenly a shower of arrows began to fly from everywhere. The orcs began to fall swiftly, and for a moment Legolas was perplexed. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around and saw a familiar face.

"Arkáno!" he cried. "What is this? Is this how you welcome your friend?"

Arkáno laughed. "Well met, Lord Legolas. I apologise for not alerting you to our presence sooner, but we were tracking the orcs that were following you. We did not want them to know of us, for they would have returned to Mordor," here he motioned to another elf nearby. "Now leave the fighting to us, my lord. Elendúr will lead you and the lady to safety."

Legolas picked up Morgiel and turned back to Arkáno. "The lady is very ill. Have you anyone who can help? She is very close to death, and I would do anything to see her cured."

Arkáno reassured Legolas when he saw the desperation in his eyes. He put his hand on Legolas' shoulder. "My lord, do not worry. She shall be well-taken care of. The lady will not fall into shadow. Now go, my friend."

He turned and joined the others in battling the orcs. Legolas followed Elendúr towards the elves' village. When they reached the first group of buildings, Elendúr led him to the chief building and showed him inside.

"This is our House of Healing, not unlike that of Minas Tirith, where Master Arkáno is Warden," he said. "We have many skilled in healing all sorts of ailments."

A golden-haired elf-woman walked up to them and bowed slightly. "_Mae govannen,_ my lord. I am Calendal; if you will follow me I shall show you where the lady can rest." She turned and headed down the main hallway. Legolas thanked Elendúr and followed after Calendal.

She led Legolas into a room with two big beds and spacious windows, all of which faced to the West. Legolas laid Morgiel down on one of the beds then excused himself while Calendal washed Morgiel's wound and helped her into clean clothes. When she was done Legolas returned and she left him alone with Morgiel.

"I shall return in the morning," she said. "I have done all I can do for now, but do not give up hope, my lord. The lady is strong in body and spirit."

Legolas drew up a chair close to Morgiel's bed and sat down. She was lying there peacefully, but there was still a slight shadow about her countenance. He took her hand again and stroked it softly. She opened her eyes and looked up at him.

"I thought I was dreaming, Legolas," she said quietly. "I thought you called me by another name in my dream, before the orcs came."

Legolas smiled at her and looked into her eyes. "I did call you by another name. I did not want to give up hope. I gave you the name _Estelwen,_ 'maiden of hope'. But there are no orcs now. My people have destroyed what was left of them; the ones whom Túrthalion bred. There is no more evil in Middle-earth, Morgiel. You have fulfilled your quest."

Legolas thought that this would help Morgiel, but instead she looked away with sadness in her eyes. "The shadow of it all is still within me. This spell is not cast from me yet, Legolas." She turned back to him. "There was something else you said; something that called me from the darkness."

Legolas' heart jumped inside him. He knew what he had said, but did Morgiel feel the same way? He was struggling for an answer, which was odd for him, for he was always very eloquent and knew what to say in any situation. But now he felt tongue-tied and helpless. '_This is not right,_' he thought. '_Why am I hindered in expressing my love for this lady? For once, I know not what to do. I do not want to distress her in this crucial time, for what if she does not love me?_' He looked down at the slender, pallid Elf who had captivated his heart.

"I…it is very late, my lady. It would do you well to rest." He smoothed back her hair, stood up, and blew out the candle.

"Good night, Legolas." Morgiel was very tired, but bewildered by Legolas' sudden evasiveness. '_Why did he ignore my question?_' she thought sleepily.'_It is not like him to be so indirect._' She tried to perceive his thoughts, but the shadow hindered her from doing so. Frustrated, she turned over and tried to fall asleep.

Legolas was also attempting to sleep. He was lying in the other bed, turning over in his mind what had just happened. He could not believe that he had so deliberately disregarded Morgiel's question, for he wanted to tell her he loved her. He wished he could understand her thoughts, but her illness prevented it for now. He still could not sleep, so he quietly got up and left the room. He walked out of the village and into the open woods. It was peaceful and quiet, and the moon was waxing to the full. Legolas continued to think about Morgiel. For some reason he felt that it would take more than those in the Healing House to cure her, and he knew that he could not reveal his true feelings until she was fully whole in her spirit and mind. He was standing in a clearing, looking up at the clusters of bright stars when he heard footsteps.

"My lord, you are not resting? But then, who can rest on such a beautiful night as this?"

It was Arkáno. He reached Legolas and bowed slightly. Legolas smiled slightly and spread his arms out towards the trees. "This is my resting-place, Arkáno. The forest is my home, and such beautiful stars should be looked upon." He began walking and Arkáno followed.

"But in truth," Legolas continued, "I am finding it hard to rest while Morgiel is ill. I do not discount your people's skill, my friend, but I feel that they will not be able to cure her completely;" he stopped, and his face brightened with a thought. "Aragorn!"

"My lord, the King in Gondor? Will he come?"

"Yes, he will come. Are you able to send a messenger tonight?"

Arkáno laughed, but not jestingly. "I can see that you hold this lady dear to your heart. Yes, I will send my fastest messenger, Túromë." He turned to Legolas. "What shall he say to the King?"

"He shall say: 'The Lord Legolas of Ithilien, a friend and comrade of old, is requesting his Highness' help in healing for the Lady Morgiel Carnimírië; of whom the shadow of darkness is upon, and cannot withstand it without his Highness' aid.'"

"He shall give that message, my lord. He should reach Minas Tirith by morning; I will give him my fastest horse."

Legolas was very grateful. "Thank you, my friend. May you and your household be blessed greatly for this."

Arkáno smiled and bowed again. "It is my pleasure, my lord."

They now turned and headed back toward the village; Legolas now with a much lighter step and heart.

When Arkáno and Legolas arrived at the village, Legolas returned to the Healing House, and Arkáno left to summon Túromë. When Legolas reached the room he and Morgiel were staying in, he entered quietly and walked over to Morgiel's bed. She was sleeping peacefully, and again Legolas felt his heart overflow with love for her. He bent over her and softly kissed her still-cold forehead.

"Good night, my _Estelwen_," he whispered. She did not stir. Legolas then walked over to the bed prepared for him. he sat down upon it and put his head in his hands. '_Never have I felt weary like this,_' he thought. '_Yet never have I loved such as this_.'

He stood up and walked over to the window. It faced westward, and Legolas could see the winding Anduin shining like a silver thread; further out he could see the wood under the eaves of the Ered Nimrais, then the sharp outline of the White Mountains themselves.

Now Legolas gazed unseeing to the West, for he found himself in the midst of a dream.

It was a dream of the Sea.

The call of the Sea had haunted him ever since the Lady of the Golden Wood had sent him those words;

"_Legolas Greenleaf long under tree_

_In joy thou hast lived. Beware of the Sea!_

_If thou hearest the cry of the gull on the shore,_

_Thy heart shall then rest in the forest no more."_

The Elf saw a grey ship upon a great, grey Sea. The Sea stretched silver to the West until nothing more could be seen. Suddenly he found himself standing in this ship with Morgiel by his side. Another was with them. Gimli son of Glóin, his dearest friend, stood upon his left. They sailed upon unseen winds until Middle-earth was left behind. Legolas could now see naught but the Sea before him. As he strained his far-seeing eyes he caught a glimpse of green in the far reaches of the West. The green soon became a visible land, and Legolas' heart swelled with joy. Now they were upon the very shore of that blessed land, with many fair folk there to greet them. But then the dream began to fade. Legolas found himself standing by the window in the Healing House of Ithilien. The sun was just rising over the White Mountains. He breathed deeply, his strength fully renewed. Then he looked at the sleeping form of Morgiel.

"That day will come," he said aloud. "But not soon, for my heart lingers still here in this place."

Just then Calendal entered carrying a silver bowl of water and a wash cloth. She set them down and bowed.

"Good morning, my lord," she said. "If it pleases you, Master Arkáno would see you in the Council House. It is the second building from the Healing House."

Legolas turned to Calendal. "Did he tell you what he would see me for?"

"Nay, my lord. He only requested that you come as soon as you were able."

"Then I will go now. I shall return shortly." He turned and left the room.

When Legolas reached the Council House, Arkáno welcomed him warmly.

"Good morning, my lord," he said merrily. "Are you and the lady faring well in this place?"

Legolas smiled slightly. "It is a beautiful, green morning. Indeed, this air does me more good than any other sustenance. And the lady sleeps peacefully in your Healing House, though still the shadow lies heavily upon her."

Arkáno became grave when he saw the aggrieved look on Legolas' face.

"Do not fret, my lord. Túromë and the King should arrive this afternoon; if not sooner."

He walked over to Legolas and put his hand on his shoulder. "Keep hope, my friend. The lady has accomplished something that all of Middle-earth has eagerly awaited since its creation, and the orcs we encountered are destroyed completely. There is no trace of them left. The reward for the lady's many pains shall not be withheld from her. And you shall be rewarded as well for your valiance in this quest."

"I do not care for rewards, Arkáno," Legolas replied. "All my heart longs for now is to see the lady restored." His face brightened as he thought of her. "She is unusually strong, for she has dwarf-blood in her."

"Dwarf-blood, my lord?" Arkáno asked.

"She is descended from the wood-elves of Ossiriand; her grandmother was the daughter of an elf-lord who fell in love with and married a dwarf-lord of Nogrod. Morgiel's mother was half dwarf, but her father was an elf."

Arkáno was astonished. "This is indeed a wondrous thing. That is the reason for the lady's red hair, is it not?"

Now Legolas laughed. "Yes, indeed it is. It is a strange but beautiful thing. There is no other in all of Middle-earth like the Lady Morgiel. Now, with your permission, I must go back to the lady. I do not want to leave her long." He started for the door.

Arkáno followed after him. When they reached the Healing House, he took leave of Legolas and assured him that he would send for him when the King arrived.

"I am very grateful to you for all you have done," Legolas replied. "I shall have you made Lord of all Ithilien; North and South."

Arkáno laughed. "Nay, my lord. I do not wish for such titles and offices. I am content with this Healing House as my ward. But I am honoured to have such a healer as the King grace us with his presence. That is all the merit I desire."

"Then it shall be given you," Legolas said. He then entered the Healing House and came to Morgiel's room. Calendal was just closing the door and now came toward him.

"The lady is awake, my lord, but she is still very weak. I believe the wound is poisoned, but I cannot seem to draw the poison out. Is there any other way to help her?"

Legolas looked at her. "There is one who can heal her. He is coming soon. Do not worry, I know you are doing your best."

Calendal smiled, bowed quickly, and hurried away. Legolas quietly entered the room and went over to Morgiel. She was lying in bed; her left shoulder was wrapped in a cloth bandage. Her eyes were closed, but Legolas knew she was not sleeping. He sat down next to her and touched her hand. She turned to him and looked up into his eyes.

"Legolas," she said quietly. "I have had the strangest dream. It was of the Sea."

Legolas' heart jumped as Morgiel continued.

"I dreamed that we were sailing West in a grey ship. I was overjoyed, though I know not why. I have never seen the Sea or a ship, but they were there nevertheless. I did not dream any more, for suddenly a dark mist seemed to surround me and all was lost. I awoke to find it morning, and an elf was washing my shoulder. She said her name was Calendal, and I was in the keeping of the Warden of the Healing House of Ithilien. After she left I tried to recall all that had happened after Durthang, but it is all in shadow. I do not know how I shall ever conquer this final trial, for it seems that Túrthalion has now accomplished what he set out to do all those ages ago."

Now Legolas was extremely worried. He peered into Morgiel's face, searching for hope, but found nothing.

"My lady!" he exclaimed. "Have you given up hope so soon? Do you not know the strength you have and all that you have endured? This is not the end, Morgiel. You cannot surrender to this shadow, for that is all it is: a shadow. I care too greatly for you to allow this thing to overcome you so."

Now Morgiel turned to him, her green eyes bright with tears. "You care too much for me?" she retorted. "But you did not care enough to tell me yourself that which has kept me alive for all this time, in hope that the words I thought were only a dream would break this darkness that has wrapped itself around my heart. But now I am not so sure. I would like to be alone now, Legolas." She turned her back to him.

Legolas sat there for a moment, then dejectedly left the room. He left the Healing House and headed for the woods, but at that moment Elendúr ran up to him.

"My lord!" he exclaimed. "The King has arrived!"

He turned and headed toward the westward entrance to the village, and Legolas ran after him. He was still thinking about Morgiel when they reached the gate, but he was briefly gladdened in spirit when he saw his old friend.

"Legolas!" Aragorn said as he embraced Legolas. "It is good to be with old friends again."

"Yes," Legolas replied. "I am grateful that you have come in such a time as this. Would you rest now, before seeing the lady? For you must have ridden all through the night to arrive here so quickly."

Aragorn smiled. "It is nothing, Legolas. I have come to honour your request. Come, we must not let the lady fall."

Legolas' heart fell as he recalled his earlier conversation with Morgiel. He turned to Aragorn as they walked toward the Healing House. "My lord, it is worse now. The lady, she is…" Legolas paused. Again he struggled for words. He looked across the lands to the West, then back at Aragorn.

"I would do anything for her, Aragorn. But I feel that this could have been prevented if I had opened my heart to her."

Aragorn placed his hand on his friend's shoulder. "I can see you have deep feelings for her, for your thoughts have been of nothing else."

"I love her, Aragorn," Legolas replied.

"Does she love you?"

"That I know not, for I have not spoken of my feelings to her." Legolas clenched his fists in frustration. "My heart aches every time I look upon her so-pale beauty, and when she looks at me my heart stops and my tongue fails me, and I have not the words to declare my love.

"And now," he continued, "she has fallen deeper into shadow, for she speaks of death, or will not speak at all. She will not permit anyone to be with her now."

"We will go to her now," Aragorn said. "There is no time to be wasted, for she is near passing."

When Legolas and Aragorn reached the Healing House, they were met by a very distraught Calendal. She rushed up to Legolas and took his hand.

"My lord, the lady!" she cried.

"What is it?" he replied. "Is she worse?"

Calendal nodded, and tears began to form in her eyes. "She is cold as ice, and she seems to see strange visions, for she speaks of shadows and other dreadful things about her, but the sun is shining."

Now Legolas was alarmed. He ran to Morgiel's room, and Aragorn followed close behind, telling Calendal to bring hot water. They reached the room and Legolas started towards the door, but Aragorn held him back.

"We must go to her quietly. We do not want to provoke what has begun to set in. she will not die, my friend; I promise you that."

Legolas nodded and they stepped into the room. Morgiel was lying in bed, eyes wide open with fear. She was gasping for air and her skin was a pale blue. Legolas rushed to her side and clasped her cold hand.

"My _Estelwen_," he cried. "Do not give up, healing has come." She did not respond, but looked at him with unseeing eyes. He continued to hold her hand as Calendal and Aragorn prepared to heal the wound in body and spirit.

Calendal set the bowl of steaming water next to the bed, and then she produced a few fresh leaves of the _athelas_ plant. These Aragorn took and crushed into the water. The room instantly freshened as the fragrant smell of the plant permeated the air. Aragorn dipped a small cloth into the water and began to wash Morgiel's wound with it. She cringed and gripped Legolas' hand when the cloth touched her wound, but Aragorn held it there firmly, for it was the only way to draw out the poison. As he treated her wound he began to speak softly, and with these words Morgiel began to slowly come around.

"Morgiel Carnimírië, _tulyë i_ _galad_;" he whispered. "Come to the light, come to the light."

With that Morgiel sank back into her pillow and closed her eyes. Her skin began to flush and her breathing became normal. She fell into a peaceful sleep.

Legolas gently laid her hand on the coverlet and stood up. He and Aragorn quietly left the room, and Calendal followed. Arkáno met them when they reached the corridor, and Aragorn gave him explicit instructions for the keeping of Morgiel until she was fully recovered.

"She must stay here in this House until she has regained her strength," he said. "I have been able to draw all the poison from her wound, but now her spirit must mend. When she is stronger, Legolas can walk with her in these woods if she wishes, but she must not leave this place until all is well in her. I will remain here for three days; the lady should be without my need by then."

Arkáno assured the Elf and the King that he would take excellent care of Morgiel, then they took leave of him and departed from the Healing House.

Now Legolas and Aragorn began to walk to the Common House, where travellers and guests in that village would spend the night. Aragorn insisted upon staying there, for though he was King, he was foremost a Ranger, and accustomed to simple travel and housing.

As they walked Aragorn reassured Legolas of Morgiel's recovery. "She will heal as long as her spirit is able to recover," he said. "The worst is over, and a new life has begun for her."

"Yes," Legolas replied. "My heart tells me that she must know of my love for her; and I think she will know of it gladly, for in that moment of healing just before she closed her eyes, she looked at me, and I saw what was in her heart." Legolas smiled and looked up at the trees that surrounded them. "I am very grateful for what you have done, my friend. All is well now. Thank you."

Aragorn turned to Legolas and placed his hand on his shoulder. "All shall be well when the lady is restored. Watch her carefully, Legolas. As I said before; the worst is over; but she must conquer this shadow in her own strength. You must be there to support her, but you cannot free her yourself."

"I understand," Legolas replied. "I will do all I can to help her. She will overcome this shadow."

_REVIEWS? SUGGESTIONS? ANYTHING IS WELCOME, EVEN FLAMES!_


	7. Chapter 7

_AN: I apologise for the severe tardiness of this chapter; I have been rather busy of late (I am a senior at university, and I have also been wandering in the realms of romantic fancy, so please forgive me). But here is the seventh chapter, please read and review and enjoy! Oh, and I only own unfamiliar characters, The Great JRR Tolkien owns everything else, and rightly so._

Chapter Seven

The days were getting warmer as the end of spring approached, but still Morgiel felt cold in spirit. It had been two days since Aragorn had cured her poisoned wound, but her heart had yet to mend. She would not speak to anyone, but would stay in her room all day and sit at the window, staring to the West as if in a dream.

On the eve of the eighth of May; the day before Aragorn was to return to Minas Tirith; Legolas went to Morgiel, for she would not see anyone except for Calendal, who would bring her food and water. She was sitting at the window, and turned quickly when she heard Legolas at the door.

"Legolas, what is it?" she asked. She did not move from her place, and Legolas remained standing in front of her.

"My lady—Morgiel, I know that you have been cured of your wound, but I would know of the shadow that wounded you deeper still: has it passed?"

Legolas took a step forward as Morgiel stood to her feet. She faced him, and the setting sun behind her lit up her hair so that she looked almost ethereal. Legolas' face brightened with hopeful expectation, but was troubled again when Morgiel pulled a curtain over the window, and he saw how pale she still was.

"Nay, Legolas," she replied quietly. "I am still cold in spirit. I do not know what it will take for this darkness to pass from me; perhaps you do?" As she said this she looked straight into his eyes, and Legolas knew that she could perceive his thoughts. But he did not say anything except; "Perhaps it would do you well to see the stars and moon, and to breathe the fresh air. We could walk among the trees tonight, if you wish."

Morgiel looked away and sighed. "I think I would stay indoors for a few more days, Legolas."

"Perhaps I could keep you company until then?" Legolas asked hopefully.

Morgiel looked up at Legolas, and he felt her soften a little.

"Yes," she replied. "You could keep me company. Though I do not know what good it would do, for I would only dampen your ever-merry spirits, I'm afraid."

Legolas stepped closer to her and took her hand. "The very sight of you makes my heart glad, Morgiel. There is nothing you could do to trouble my spirits now."

Morgiel looked down at the thin stream of sunlight that escaped through the curtain. She gently pulled her hand from Legolas' and returned to her seat by the window.

"Then we shall sit in this darkness and be silent?" she asked.

"If I am with you, then I would sit silent for an eternity," Legolas replied quietly. He pulled a chair next to Morgiel and sat down. She did not say anything, but stared listlessly at the curtain that covered the window. Legolas gazed at the woman he silently loved and felt his heart become heavy with sorrow for her plight. '_I _will _tell her how I feel,_' he thought. '_My heart cannot be silenced forever, nor can this darkness plague her heart any longer._'

xXx

The next day Aragorn left to return to Minas Tirith. All returned to the way it had been before he arrived, and Arkáno kept a close watch on Morgiel. The silence and darkness of her state continued, for she would not be moved by anyone. Legolas would sit in her room with her and watch in anguished silence as she distanced herself from everything and refused to be healed in spirit. Sometimes she would take his hand and hold it tight, as if she was crying out for help as she fell farther away, but she never said a word.

One night Calendal came into Morgiel's room and found her standing next to the open window, gazing out at the full moon. She turned when she heard Calendal enter.

"Where is Legolas, Calendal?" Morgiel asked. "For I have not seen him at all today."

As Calendal came closer Morgiel could see that she was carrying a bundle in her hands. Morgiel walked over to her, curious to see what it was.

"My lady," Calendal said as she bowed slightly. "Lord Legolas wishes to see you on the porch outside. I brought you this gown, for I thought you would want to wear something different. Go ahead, try it on."

Morgiel picked up the gown as Calendal lit a lamp that hung from the ceiling. It was deep red with jet and mithril trimming on the bodice. It reminded Morgiel of the gown she had worn on her last day in Rivendell, and tears came to her eyes. She turned to Calendal. " Thank you; it is very beautiful," she said. "Tell Legolas that I shall meet him."

Calendal nodded and left the room.

Morgiel put the gown on, which fit her perfectly. She walked over to a small table that stood beside her bed and picked up Arien's necklace. It had been put away while she was wounded, and she had not put it back on. Now she clasped it around her neck and fingered it familiarly. She brushed through her hair and turned to a mirror that stood in the corner. Her slender figure and pallid face met her, and for a moment she looked like the regular Morgiel. Then her reflection darkened, and she felt a tear roll down her cheek. '_Do I tell him how I feel?_' she thought to herself. '_For it does not seem as if he will open his heart to me; though I know not why._' She continued to stand there, and as she looked at her reflection she felt her heart begin to break with realisation. "It is my own doing," she said aloud. "I have let this shadow continue in my heart."

She turned from the mirror and walked towards the door. '_But no more,_' she thought. She left the room and slowly made her way to the porch where Legolas was expectantly waiting.

When Morgiel reached the porch, she found Legolas standing silently, looking up to the stars. He heard her footsteps and turned to meet her.

She was slowly coming towards him, and the moonlight fell softly about her. She was still a little pale, but her beauty overwhelmed him and an audible gasp slipped from his lips. When she reached him he took her hand and kissed it.

"You look very beautiful tonight, my lady," he said softly.

"I was told that you wished to see me," Morgiel replied. She did not pull her hand from his.

"Yes," Legolas said. He now took Morgiel's other hand and started to lead her towards the woods. "Come, Morgiel, there is something I wish to tell you."

"You cannot tell me here?" she asked.

"The open wood is a better place for such things, I think," Legolas said with a hint of a smile.

They walked hand-in-hand into the woods of Ithilien, and as they walked the only sound to be heard was the wind gently blowing through the trees. The air was fresh and cool on Morgiel's face, and she felt her strength come back to her. As they walked Morgiel stole glances at Legolas, who was silent. He appeared to be enjoying himself, but she could tell that there was something else in his mind that kept him silent.

Soon they were in the heart of the wood. They came upon a small clearing and stopped. Legolas led Morgiel into the clearing where a large, smooth rock was buried deep into the earth. This Morgiel sat down upon, but Legolas remained standing. He pointed to the bright clusters of stars that shone down bright upon them.

"Those stars;" he said, "I have looked upon them for many ages, and never have I found a thing so beautiful in all of Middle-earth. Until now, my lady." Here Legolas took Morgiel's hands and gently pulled her up close to him.

"You, my _Estelwen_," he continued softly as he looked deep into her eyes, "You are more beautiful than all the stars and the Moon himself; more beautiful than these trees, and more beautiful than the Sea. You have made me feel as if I could endure all the ages of the world without a single effort, if only it were that I could spend them with you. Your spirit is a mighty flame that cannot be quenched, and your strength never falters.

"For too long now have I watched you linger in this shadow, fearing that you were beyond hope. But now I see that hope is here, and in that hope you have persevered; the hope that love would prevail."

Morgiel looked up at Legolas, her face bright. A tear glistened on her cheek as she clasped Legolas' hands tighter.

"Love?" she whispered. She did not say anything else, fearing that the moment would fade away like all the dreams she had had of late.

Legolas brushed back Morgiel's hair and caressed her cheek. "I love you, Morgiel. I have loved you all this time; even before Mordor I loved you, but my tongue was stayed by the doubt that you would not love me. But I could not bear the silence any longer; I had to tell you what my heart longed to cry out to the world. And now," he paused. Morgiel put her fingers to his lips and smiled slightly.

"Now you will hear what my heart has longed to say," she said softly. "I do love you, Legolas. But I was hindered by the shadow that I let linger in my heart. I knew that you loved me; I could see it in your eyes. But I did not know why you would not say anything, so I pushed myself away from you, instead of letting go of the darkness. Yet hope remained in the depths of my heart, and I could not allow myself to be consumed by the darkness and love you as well. You have caught me again in the midst of my fall, Legolas."

Now Morgiel stepped away from Legolas and spread her hands to the sky. She looked up to the stars and spoke. "_Mornië umortulnyë, ar feänya evinyatië; alassë ná sinomë._ Darkness has not overcome me, and my spirit has been renewed; joy is in this place."

Morgiel finished and turned back to Legolas. She smiled and embraced him. He pulled her close to him and they stood there under the stars. All was silent for what seemed an eternity, then Legolas looked down into Morgiel's eyes. "_Alassë ná sinomë, nin Estelwen_," he said softly. He bent down and brought his face close to hers, and under the bright stars and the moon they kissed.

xXx

The next morning Morgiel and Legolas went to Arkáno, and he released Morgiel from his care. They continued to dwell in that village, however, for it had only been seven days since they had reached Ithilien, and they wanted to finally enjoy the rest that was to be found in that place. They spent the next few days enjoying their new-found love, and Legolas took Morgiel to the deepest part of the woods of Ithilien, where they would sit in silence, feeling the earth grow all around them, and it was good.

One day, towards the end of May, Legolas came into Morgiel's room and found her standing by the window, gazing into the West. He became slightly concerned and stepped up to her so he could see her face. She turned to him, smiling, and his concern lessened; but still he wondered what was in her heart.

"My love, something else is drawing your heart; what is it?" he asked. "Would you take leave of this place, and pass into the West so soon?"

Morgiel drew close to him and touched his cheek. "Nay, Legolas, I would not take leave of this place yet, but something has been calling to me. I keep having visions and dreams of the Sea, and a longing for it as never before has been in my heart. I know this is in your heart as well, but I would not leave this place so soon, for there is too much that I have not seen or done yet. I would see your home, the Greenwood, and I would like to see Aragorn again, for I had not the chance to thank him properly for all that he did."

Legolas took Morgiel's hands and smiled. "We will go up to Lasgalen, my love, and we will go to Minas Tirith and thank Aragorn; but now, there is someone I would like you to meet, someone who is a very old friend and very dear to me. Come, let us go to the courtyard!"

Morgiel and Legolas left the Common House and made their way to the courtyard. When they arrived they were met by Arkáno and Túromë. With them was a person that Morgiel did not know. She was surprised at the appearance of this person, for she had never seen the likes of him before. He was about four and a half feet tall, and was of stocky stature. He had a great, reddish-brown beard, and he carried a magnificent axe. His countenance was bright and cheerful, and when he saw Legolas he gave a great shout, and ran toward them.

"Legolas!" he exclaimed. "Why did you not send for me sooner? I would have come a month ago if I had known you would be here. You have not changed at all."

Legolas laughed and embraced his friend. "And neither have you changed, Gimli. It does my heart good to see you. We have been apart for too long."

Gimli stepped back from Legolas and looked up at him. "Yes, we have a lot to catch up on, my friend. And now," he said as he turned to Morgiel. "Are you going to introduce me to the lady?"

Legolas put his arm around Morgiel and looked at her lovingly. She smiled, and Gimli threw up his hands in feigned frustration. "Well?" he asked.

"Gimli," Legolas said. "This is the Lady Morgiel Carnimírië, with whom I have travelled into Mordor to destroy the last servant of the Dark Lord Sauron, thus bringing peace at last to Middle-earth."

Gimli bowed low. "Songs will be made in your honour, lady, for this great thing you have done," he said solemnly. He straightened and looked on Morgiel fully.

"You are very beautiful, my lady. One of the fairest elf-maidens I have seen. But I must know; how is it that you have red hair? That I have never seen in an elf, for their hair is of gold, or either silver or jet."

Morgiel smiled. "I am descended from Orin, son of Norin, of the ancient dwarf-city of Nogrod. Orin was my grandfather."

Gimli's eyes grew wide as Morgiel spoke, and for a moment he was without words. When he was finally able to speak he gave a cry of wonder and joy. "Orin of Nogrod! He is one of my ancestors as well! I am descended from him on my cousin Balin's side, who is directly descended from him. Oh! This is indeed a wonder to me! But how are you related to him?"

"Orin traded with some elves that lived near the Blue Mountains in Osirriand, where my grandmother lived. They met and fell in love and married, and my mother was their child. She had red hair as well, but she died when I was but an infant, so I am the last elf in Middle-earth to be of dwarvish and elvish descent."

Gimli stroked his beard thoughtfully, then looked up at Morgiel. His face brightened as he realised what she was saying. "Then we are related, my lady. We are fourth cousins…once removed?…on Balin's side, I think," he finished slowly as he began to think too hard.

Legolas laughed and put his hand on Gimli's shoulder. "Actually, my friend, Morgiel is older than you, so she would be removed farther than that in relations; but it matters not, I think."

"Let us say we are cousins, my lady," Gimli answered. "And let us leave it at that."

Morgiel smiled. "Very well, cousin Gimli. I am honoured to be related to such an esteemed dwarf as yourself; for Legolas speaks very highly of you."

Now Gimli began to fidget with the shaft of his axe. "Well," he stammered, "he is not so bad himself. You will not find a more faithful Elf than Legolas."

As Gimli spoke, a lone elf dressed in muted green and brown rode up on a horse. Legolas recognised the elf and ran toward him.

"Esgallach!" Legolas exclaimed. "What brings you so far from Lasgalen? Is something amiss?"

Esgallach dismounted and bowed before Legolas. "Nay, my lord. I am come from Eryn Lasgalen with a message from your father, Thranduil."

"My father?" Legolas replied. "Then it is important. Come, let us find a better-suited place to talk, so you may rest and recover your strength."

Legolas motioned to an elf nearby to take Esgallach's horse to the stable, then they turned and headed toward the Common House with Morgiel and Gimli following. As they walked Gimli talked with Morgiel about the ways of his people. He promised to take her to the dwarf-city of Erebor, where he lived, and show her how glorious the dwarves have made their dwelling places.

When the small party reached the Common House, they retreated to a small, secluded room, and food and drink was brought for the messenger from Lasgalen. As he ate and rested, Esgallach recounted the message from Thranduil.

"My lord," he began. "Your father has sent me here to summon you back to Eryn Lasgalen. The king is finally becoming weary of this place, and would pass over the Sea into the West. He wishes for you to come back to your home and accept the throne. The Greenwood is one of the last elven-realms, and many still dwell within. Your father does not think it should pass away altogether just yet."

"Would he have me come so soon?" Legolas asked. He was very surprised at his father's request, for he knew that Legolas was not one for kingdoms and such grandiose things. True, he was the crown prince, but he felt it was in name only. He was much more contented with living a simple life in the forest with the one he loved. He looked at Morgiel, who could sense what was running through his mind. She took his hand gently and looked into his eyes.

"You should at least accept his request to see you, Legolas," she said quietly. "Your father loves you, and would see you again before his passing."

Legolas nodded. "I know, my love. I must think this over, though, for it is a very important decision on my part and my father's." He turned to Esgallach and stood up. "I will give you an answer tomorrow," he said.

"Very well, my lord," Esgallach replied.

Now the elves and the dwarf left the room, and Esgallach retired to a room prepared for him. Morgiel, Legolas, and Gimli walked out to the Porch. Legolas was still thinking about his father's message, and Morgiel and Gimli counselled him.

"Just think, Legolas," Gimli said. "You would be king over the largest elf-realm in all of Middle-earth. And Morgiel would be your queen. Is that not a fine position to be in?"

"But it is such a significant position. I do not think I could carry such a responsibility as that. And Morgiel and I are very happy here in Ithilien."

"I would be happy anywhere with you, my love," Morgiel said softly. "Consider what your father is really telling you. You are his son and the crown prince. He knows that you would be happy without ever having that crown, but he trusts no one more than you with the crown. It would be an honour for you to continue in his place as king."

"The lady is right, Legolas," Gimli said.

Morgiel smiled. "We could be wed in Lasgalen. Then your father could be present for such a joyous occasion, and it might give you a chance to talk this over with him yourself."

Legolas smiled back at Morgiel and drew her close to him. "Then we will journey to Lasgalen. But first we will stop in Minas Tirith, for I would have Aragorn present for our wedding as well."

"Then it is settled!" Gimli interjected. "When shall we leave for Minas Tirith?"

Legolas stretched his hands to the dusk sky, then took Morgiel's hands into his own. "I think we shall leave two days from now, for I will send Túromë ahead of us so Aragorn will know of our coming. And that should give us enough time to prepare for the journey, for it is many leagues from here to Lasgalen."

"Fortunately, the weather is starting to warm up," Gimli said. "We will not have a difficult journey, I think."

"Yes," Morgiel added. "It will be a pleasant journey indeed; not like the last one." Her face darkened for a moment with remembrance, then she smiled. "I shall be glad to travel, for my heart is becoming restless in this place; it is wonderful here, but I would see the other places of Middle-earth."

"I will send for Túromë," said Legolas. "He will take a message to Aragorn, and Esgallach will take the message to my father of our coming."

"Good," Gimli said tiredly. "And I shall now go to my bed, for it is night and time for rest. Good night to both of you." He bowed and headed toward the Common House. Legolas and Morgiel stayed in the Porch and watched the Moon rise to its full. They were content to be without words; standing in each other's arms under the stars. A cool breeze gently blew through the place, and the faint smell of the new summer flowers was upon it.

Presently Morgiel felt that something was troubling the heart of Legolas, and she looked up at him. He had a faraway look in his eyes, as if seeing the future in his mind. Morgiel touched his cheek.

"My love, what is troubling you?" she asked softly. "For I see it in your eyes."

Legolas looked down at her. Her face was full of concern and care for him. He kissed her forehead and brushed her hair from her face.

"I feel as if something is about to happen that we cannot see just yet. I do not know if it will be soon, or if it will be one hundred years from now, but I can feel it.

"I continue to see Lasgalen, and my father's face. It is full of sadness and weariness like I have never seen before. He will go to the Grey Havens, but Lasgalen will never be the same; not even if I am there in his stead."

Morgiel was surprised. "Then you will accept the crown and become king?"

Legolas nodded. "Yes, my _Estelwen_; it is the best choice. It will be good for my father to know that his son has chosen to follow in his path."

"But what of the Sea?" Morgiel asked. "I know it draws your heart daily, as it does mine, but how long can you stave off the desire?"

Legolas did not answer Morgiel right away. He wanted to please his father, but he could not shake the call of the Sea. His thoughts were interrupted when Morgiel spoke. "You cannot escape your calling, my love. It would wear away at your spirit until you were nothing more than a shadow."

"I know," Legolas replied. "But I do not wish to be king forever. When the time comes, we shall know."

Morgiel took Legolas' hand and drew him close to her. She kissed his hand and looked up at him.

"I only hope you shall be able to withstand the time while we remain here," she said quietly.

Legolas caressed her cheek. "As long as you are with me, I could withstand the weight of all Middle-earth."

Morgiel smiled and laid her head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, and they stood there in silence as the sun set in red flame around them.

xXx

The next morning, Túromë and Esgallach set off, one to Minas Tirith and the other to Eryn Lasgalen. The whole village was busy with the preparations for the journey to Eryn Lasgalen; and Morgiel and Legolas were not the least of these.

Morgiel and Calendal were in Morgiel's room packing their things, for Calendal would be travelling as Morgiel's lady-in-waiting for the wedding and coronation. Calendal was very excited, for she had come from Lasgalen to Ithilien when Legolas brought some of his people with him to live there.

"I'm finally going home, my lady," Calendal said excitedly. "I love Ithilien, but my heart has longed for the forests of the Greenwood. They are so very beautiful, next to the mallorn trees of Lothlórien. I think you will like living in Lasgalen."

Morgiel smiled and hugged Calendal, who in truth was now one of her closest friends.

"I am sure that I will love living there," she said. '_But I hope that we will be happy there as well,_' she added to herself. Her face darkened for a moment, but she brushed off the thought of times to come and continued with her task.

As Morgiel and Calendal finished their preparations, Legolas and Arkáno met them in the main hall of the Common House. They were talking over the best and quickest routes to Minas Tirith and Lasgalen, but they could not decide which route to take. All the maps that Arkáno kept of Middle-earth were spread out upon a great table, and Morgiel now looked over them to see if they could come to a proper decision. She pointed to the Anduin River and looked back at Legolas and Arkáno.

"Perhaps we could just follow the Anduin?" she suggested. "We could travel south-west toward Minas Tirith and cross the River when we reach the eastern borders of Gondor. Then from Minas Tirith we would have to travel west through Anorien and cross the River Greywash to the northern side. We could even pass through Lothlórien if we wished."

At that Legolas' face grew grave. He looked out of the ever-westward windows and sighed. "None live there now save for the trees that will stand until the World has ended. It would be a sad and solemn place to see now. I do not know if I have the heart to stand in that place again, under the silent trees from so long ago."

Morgiel stood silent for a moment. She knew that the memory of the Golden Wood in its waning glory was still close in Legolas' mind and heart.

"We could go round," she said quietly as she slipped her hand into Legolas'. He turned to her and smiled.

"I would that you saw the Golden Wood before time has withered it completely, my _Estelwen_. Do not worry about what has already come to pass. To see you full of sorrow makes my heart heavy. Be merry, my love! Soon we shall be wed, and I should think that would be a joyous occasion for the lady I am honoured to call my own."

Arkáno smiled and embraced his friends. "Then our route has been chosen?" he asked, laughing.

"Yes," said Legolas. "We shall leave tomorrow at sunrise."

With that, Arkáno excused himself to take care of last-minute preparations for the journey. Morgiel and Legolas were alone in the hall, and they stood hand in hand, looking West. They were silent; both thinking of the days ahead. Morgiel was still concerned for Legolas, for she knew how strongly his heart was being pulled to the West. Legolas was thinking of his father and the task that was to be set upon him in Lasgalen. He looked at Morgiel, with her whole being lit up like Arien, the Maia of the Sun, and his spirit was made glad. He drew her close and she looked up at him and smiled.

"_Alassë ná sinomë, melnya,_" she whispered. "Joy is in this place, my love."

xXx

_AN: ALL ELVISH IN QUENYA_

_SO? HOW DID YOU LIKE IT? PLEASE LET ME KNOW, I WOULD LOVE TO HEAR FROM YOU!_


	8. Chapter 8

_AN: I apologise for this chapter being so late; I have just finished finals at university and had to get moved out of the dorms and such, so hopefully I will have more time to devote to this story now that it is summer. Again, no readily –recogniseable characters are mine; they all belong to the illustrious JRR Tolkien, without whom there would be no story here. Read, review, and enjoy!_

Chapter Eight

The sun was setting as the party reached the first gate of the city of Minas Tirith. Morgiel and Legolas, along with Arkáno, Calendal, Gimli, and a few other elves had set out from Ithilien one week prior. They could have reached Minas Tirith in two days if they wished, but they wanted to enjoy the last days of spring fully.

As the party of elves entered Minas Tirith they were greeted by Túromë and some of the King's men. The Captain of the Guard was there as well. The other elves were led by Túromë to the resting place that had been prepared for them, while the Captain of the Guard escorted Morgiel, Legolas, Gimli, and Calendal to the seventh tier of the city where the King and his Queen dwelt and awaited them.

Morgiel looked in wonder at the beauty of Minas Tirith. The works of the dwarves were evident, as Gimli pointed out exactly what his people had done.

"See, my lady," he said excitedly. "See the stones set about the foundation of the walls. My people worked hard for such a beautiful thing. You will never see such a beautiful sight in any city of men. The gates all have mithril inlaid in them, and precious jewels are set into the White Tower's gates as well."

Morgiel smiled at Gimli, who continued to run hurriedly about the structures and point to various works of stone and metal. Legolas came up next to her and she slipped her hand into his. He smiled down at her and they walked the rest of the way in silence, taking in the beauty and joy that filled their hearts.

Now Morgiel, Legolas, and Gimli were entering the King's House. As the doors closed behind them they were greeted by a familiar figure. As he came closer, Morgiel recognised him as Aragorn, but different from whom she met in Ithilien. He was the same in face, save for a kinglier look; his clothes were also that of a king's. He came over to them with his arms outstretched.

"Welcome, my friends!" he said.

Gimli was the first to embrace Aragorn, and then Morgiel stepped up to him. She started to bow, but he took her hand and bowed himself. He then straightened and smiled. "You look well, my lady."

"The Valar have indeed been gracious," Morgiel replied. "And they sent me one whose hand stayed the poison within my soul;" she paused and looked at Legolas. "Without his help I would have surely perished," she finished quietly. She embraced Aragorn and gently kissed his cheek.

"Thank you, my lord," she whispered.

At that moment a dark-haired maiden appeared. "The Queen, my lord." Then she bowed and left.

As she was leaving, the Queen entered the room. Aragorn went over to her and took her hand. They came back over to the Elves and the Dwarf, and Legolas and Gimli bowed deeply. The Queen immediately embraced Morgiel. "My lady," she said. "It is an honour to have you in my home."

Morgiel was taken by no little surprise. But she composed herself and said, "Thank you. It is also an honour to meet you. I am very grateful to both you and the King, my lady."

"Please," the Queen replied. "Call me Arwen."

The two Elves walked over to Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli, who were sitting at a table, discussing the journey to Eryn Lasgalen. Arwen joined Aragorn at his side and Morgiel joined Legolas at his side.

"It will not take too long to reach Eryn Lasgalen," Legolas was saying. "We do not tire easily, and can cover great distances shortly, even when we do not need make haste. We can arrive at my father's Hall in a fortnight, I think."

Aragorn nodded. "I have our route mapped out right here;" he pulled out a map of Middle-earth, and a bright red line marked their travelling route. He pointed to the small dot where Minas Tirith was represented. "We should leave in two days, and set out west across Anórien. Once we reach the Entwash, we can cross that and head north through the eastern parts of Rohan."

Legolas caught on to what Aragorn was saying, and pointed to the Far Downs. "We shall journey through the Downs until we reach the Limlight and the Anduin. Once we are on the east side of the Great River we can follow it to the Forest Gate at the Northern end of Lasgalen. My people's forest path will lead us straight to my father," he ended excitedly.

Morgiel smiled at Legolas' gladness. Although he had not really shown it, he was still weighed down by the doom he knew would come all too soon. He was trying to keep high spirits, but it was hard. This worried Morgiel constantly, for she knew Legolas to always be merry. Now she hoped the journey to Lasgalen would ease his mind. She slipped her hand into his and he looked at her lovingly.

Gimli set down the mug of beer he was drinking and took a loud, deep breath. "Well," he said. "If we are to be in Lasgalen, then I shall have to look at your father's caverns, Legolas. Have they been restored in a while? I do not think any of my people have been there in a while; and certainly not to help with the Caverns."

Aragorn looked at the Elf and the Dwarf nervously, for Gimli was hinting at the hospitality of Thranduil to his father and kin some eighty-five years before.

But then Gimli laughed, and Aragorn let out a sigh of relief. He smiled at their jesting. "I can see that the two of you will never part on any terms. There has never been a friendship like yours, and you are blessed because of it." He rolled up the map and stood up. "But now we should all get some rest, for tomorrow will be spent preparing for the journey."

Now Morgiel, Legolas, and Gimli parted with the King and Queen and headed for their rooms. Legolas and Gimli would share a room, and Morgiel would sleep across the corridor. As they walked Gimli and Legolas talked cheerfully of Thranduil's abode and what Gimli would have done to the Caverns. Morgiel walked close to Legolas and watched him as he talked. He was fine in appearance, but as she perceived his thoughts they were far from his father's caverns and far from Minas Tirith.

'_He is so strong,'_ she thought._ 'It will take much more to cause weariness of heart in him, but how much more? Oh how I wish we were already in Lasgalen.'_

Gimli now retired to his room, but, as before, neither Elf was tired. Morgiel and Legolas walked about the seventh tier of Minas Tirith and watched as the Moon rose with the stars in all his splendour.

"It will be a lovely journey, Legolas," Morgiel said after a long silence. She knew that he was thinking always of seeing his father, whom he had been apart from for so long.

"I know, my love. I just want everything to be perfect, yet I know that it will not be so. My father will not understand my haste to pass over the Sea. He is long-lived upon this world, and I am not; in his terms. Even you have lived here longer than I have, yet you seem so much younger in spirit. I want to do the right thing, _Estelwen."_

Morgiel caressed Legolas' cheek. "I know, _melinya_, I know. You will do the right thing. You will be a strong king to your people. They love you so much already. They will accept you with joy."

Legolas nodded, and then looked toward Lasgalen. His far-seeing eyes could espy the dark cover of forest that was his home, and he suddenly missed its trees and quiet stillness. He longed for everything to be as it was before he became enmeshed in the Ringbearer's fate and the War of the Ring, except that he would have Morgiel with him still. He looked at her pale face shining softly in the moonlight; her fiery hair and green eyes catching the starlight perfectly._'She would endure anything now,'_ he thought. _'She will be a lovely queen at my side, and she will be strong as well. I do not think I could do this without her.'_

Morgiel smiled as if she knew what Legolas was thinking, but she did not say anything. She stood silently next to her love and they watched the stars wheel overhead, with the Sickle of Varda in the Northern sky, protecting that land until the world is changed for the last time, and Ilúvatar calls his children back to the Undying Lands to sing the greatest Music ever made.

The day to leave Minas Tirith came, and everyone was ready to leave. Everyone was to ride horses and pack lightly, for they did not want to be hindered in any way.

A stable-hand led out seven horses for the company. Aragorn's horse, Roheryn, was there, as well as Legolas' friend, Arod. Morgiel's horse was a gift from Aragorn and Arwen. Her name was _Sindamírë_, which is 'silver jewel'. She was sired by Shadowfax, lord of the Mearas and friend to Gandalf the White.

When they were all saddled up they set out from the City. Lord Faramir was to be active Steward in the King's absence, and he bade them farewell as they departed from the first gate of Minas Tirith. The company was now headed west into Anórien by way of the Great West Road toward the River Glanhír, which they would cross near the Mouths of the Entwash.

The company set out in high spirits, for the spring was gloriously translating into summer; and it was a mild summer. A cool, gentle breeze blew around them and brought the scent of many fair flowers with it.

As the company rode together Morgiel and Arwen were talking about Rivendell, and Arwen began to describe Lothlórien. She was sad because they were not passing through Lórien, but she promised to take Morgiel there someday.

The sun was now peeking over the land, and she stretched her warm rays towards the travellers. All the land of Anórien as far as Legolas could see was golden green in the sun, and he could catch a glimpse of the River Glanhír. He looked back at Morgiel with her sunlit hair streaming in the wind as they rode across the land, and it warmed his heart.

'_She is so beautiful,'_ he thought.

Aragorn noticed Legolas gazing at Morgiel and smiled. He rode up close to Legolas.

"I do believe that there be the two most beautiful maidens in all of Elvendom and Middle-earth," he said. "Do you not think so, Legolas?"

Legolas smiled. "Yes, I do."

Morgiel and Arwen overheard what the two were saying and laughed. They urged their horses into a steady gallop and soon were riding fast over the land. The rest of the company hurried to join the Lady and the Queen, and no one was worried or afraid of anything.

The sun was now setting on the first day of the travellers' journey, so they stopped to make camp for the night. The land about them was grassy with small clusters of trees here and there not far from the Road. It was near one of these clusters of trees that the camp was made. Tents were set up and a fire was lit quickly, and soon everyone was settling down to eat and rest for the night.

Gimli, Arkáno, and Calendal soon retired for the night, and Arwen and Morgiel quickly followed, for Morgiel was suddenly not feeling well. Aragorn was sitting by the fire smoking his pipe and Legolas was standing with his face to the western sky and his back to the camp.

Aragorn noticed Legolas' stance and looked up from his pipe. "Legolas, what is it?" he asked. "Do you see something?"

Legolas did not turn around. "No," he answered. "But my heart is restless as it has never been before;" he now turned to his friend. "I want to be a good king to my people, Aragorn. But I hinder myself, I think. The Sea will not wait forever. I must answer soon, but when?"

Aragorn stood up and put his hand on Legolas' shoulder. "You will know," he said. "You and Morgiel will know. And you shall be a great king to your people. I know that which you are unsure of, my friend. Yet you have a strength which I do not possess. You are come from the Children of the Stars, Legolas; that of itself is a great thing."

Legolas looked back at the tent where Morgiel and Calendal were sleeping.

"My people never saw the Light of Aman, Aragorn. We are of the Avari, the Dark Elves. That strength may not be in our blood."

"Come now, Legolas," Aragorn replied. "It is not like you to be so dismayed. Is there nothing more I can do?"

Legolas turned back to face the Western sky. "Keep hope, my friend," he said quietly. "That is all you may do for me now."

Aragorn nodded to Legolas' back, and then retired to his tent and Queen.

Legolas, however, remained where he was all night; sometimes standing, and sometimes pacing silently back and forth singing softly to himself.

When Morgiel awoke the next morning she saw the Elven Prince standing towards the West still, and she knew of his struggle the night before. She went to him and put her arms around him. He smiled as if nothing had happened, and shortly the company was on their way to the River Glanhír.

The next four days that the company spent travelling were rather uneventful. The weather pleasant, and everyone, including Legolas, was rather cheerful. When they reached the Glanhír on the fourth day they had no troubles in crossing. The company now turned north to the Entwade. This part of the journey did not take very long, and they reached the Entwade just before sunset. They crossed the Entwade into Rohan just past the southeastern border of that land. They set up camp on the northern side of the Entwade and settled down for the night.

That night was the same as the past four had been. Everyone slept in the tents but Legolas. He would stand or sit quietly by the fire and watch the Western sky. The Moon and Sun rose and set seven days before Legolas would actually lie down and sleep, and this was only after Aragorn pleaded with him to do so.

The party was now in the heart of the Downs of eastern Rohan. They had already travelled 156 leagues in one week and were almost one-third of the way complete in their journey. They were headed for the River Limlight, which was now about one day away. They would cross it and turn east to ford the Anduin.

As they travelled everyone was rather silent, for a cloud seemed to hang over them, thought no one knew why. The sun was high overhead and pleasantly warm, and birds were singing. But seagulls flew in and drove away the other birds with their harsh cries. The sight of the gulls brought damp spirits to the Elves; and Legolas most of all.

The day wore on, and soon it was night. But now everyone was eager to cross the Anduin, for a shadow suddenly seemed to be over the company. As they rode on, Morgiel felt the old darkness that had come over her all around them, and she did not know why. She urged Sindamírë up to where Aragorn was riding in front and reined in close to him.

"Aragorn, something is wrong," she said quietly, for she did not want to cause any unnecessary alarm.

Aragorn nodded, but did not turn to look at Morgiel.

"I know," he said grimly. "It is something oppressive, yet I cannot tell what. Could it be that evil still lingers on in these regions, my lady?"

"No!" Morgiel exclaimed, then caught herself and leaned in close to the Dúnedain. "It cannot be, Aragorn. I saw him fall; I destroyed him myself."

"What if his shadow still remains in the hearts of those he corrupted? For you were long in shadow, if you remember rightly, my lady."

"Yes, I remember," Morgiel replied tersely. "But who could it be? There is no one around for miles. I would be able to feel them, if they were near."

Now Aragorn looked at her. "They may not be here in this land, but perhaps there is something still in the southernmost parts of Lasgalen?"

Morgiel almost fell off Sindamírë. "But Thranduil rid Mirkwood of all evil at the end of the War of the Ring. How could something like that continue unnoticed by him and his people?"

"His Caverns are situated in the very northern reaches of the Wood. He is also preoccupied with preparing his kingdom for a new king, and he is weary of this place. All he wants now is to pass over the Sea."

Morgiel understood what Aragorn was saying, but it did not ease her uneasiness. She looked back at Legolas, who was caught up in a waking-dream. Tears began to burn behind her eyes as she thought of their love being deferred by the Shadow again. Calendal, who had been nodding on and off in her saddle, came up next to Morgiel.

"My lady," she said softly. "Do not worry about the Prince. He will make it yet."

Morgiel turned to her friend, tears bright in her eyes. "But I do worry about him; and us. I do not want to lose him to the Shadow like I almost did before. I do not know what to do now."

Calendal put her hand on Morgiel's. "Keep hope, my lady. It is still here with us."

Morgiel nodded and bit her lip so she would not cry. She looked again at Legolas, and he smiled faintly at her. She dropped back to where he was riding behind everyone else.

"Do you feel it, too?" he whispered.

"Yes, I do," she whispered back. "But it will not conquer us. It did not conquer us before, and there is no reason why it should now. We will reach your father unscathed."

Legolas' eyes were suddenly bright with tears. "I should wither away to nothing more but a shadow if it were not for you, _Estelwen."_

"No, Legolas," Morgiel said softly. "You are strong. I can see it in your eyes and I feel it in your spirit. Eru has given you a great gift. You have endured long upon this world, and only now are you tried by weariness. Yet it will not come so soon for you, _melinya._ We will go to Lasgalen, and you will be the greatest king of that realm. The Shadow will not prevail here or there. Remember, Legolas: _"Alassë ná sinomë."_

"Joy is in this place," Legolas said, half to himself. He looked ahead and could see the River Limlight twinkling in the light of the Moon. The sight of the reflected light suddenly warmed his heart and he sat lighter in his saddle.

Aragorn and Arwen saw the two Elves conversing and knew that sorrow would not come easily to them. The King took his Queen by the hand as they rode through the coolness of the night with their next destination in sight, and the shadow that had come over the company seemed lifted, and all was right again.

_AN: ALL ELVISH IS IN QUENYA._


End file.
